


The Stars and Tears Carved Into My Skin

by ADragonAppears, illumee_zoldyck



Series: Speakeasys X and X Sinners [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Alternate universe - Mafia, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Illumi has feelings, Illumi is a good brother, M/M, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Illumi/Hisoka, Wow look a healthy relationship for once, non-canon age
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:28:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24799957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADragonAppears/pseuds/ADragonAppears, https://archiveofourown.org/users/illumee_zoldyck/pseuds/illumee_zoldyck
Summary: San Francisco, the 1920s.Illumi Zoldyck is the eldest son of a mysterious family of assassins. Those wealthy enough to have enemies worth killing are the kind of people that give Illumi jobs. It's how he was raised and it is most likely going to be how he dies.Recently, however, someone has been disposing of his targets before he can even get to them. Sure, he still gets the payoff, but whoever is doing it is a nuisance. Until he meets the man behind the kills. His life begins to change. Illumi realizes that his job may not be everything he wants from life. The question is: what will he do about it?
Relationships: Hisoka & Illumi Zoldyck, Hisoka (Hunter X Hunter)/Illumi Zoldyck, Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck
Series: Speakeasys X and X Sinners [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793734
Comments: 45
Kudos: 292





	1. Shadowy Figures on a Bright Skyline

**Author's Note:**

> In which there is a rooftop chase and flirtatious fighting (on Hisoka's end at least).

Most people would get tired after running for this long. But then again, most people weren’t Illumi Zoldyck. He had been conditioned from a young age to be able to sprint for hours on end. Running was no problem. Jumping between rooftops was no problem. Anyone who was unfortunate enough to be pursued by Illumi was never able to outmatch him in sheer force and skill.

_This man most certainly isn’t anyone,_ he thought to himself as he slid under a bulky pipe, tearing the fabric on his pants and creating a sizable gash along his leg as he did so.

The pain wouldn’t be a problem. It never was. What was a problem, however, was the fact that the subject he was pursuing somehow seemed to be able to keep just out of reach. No matter how fast Illumi ran, no matter how far he leaped, the shadow was always five steps ahead.

And yet Illumi was still grateful for the circumstances. He knew that if the weather was poor, he might have lost the man in the fog and rain. Tonight, thankfully, the moon shone brightly onto the streets of San Francisco, illuminating his path and offering no ease of escape to his target. The fall air was cool, clear, and crisp. Breathing was easy to a point that it almost hurt. The coldness entered the lungs, penetrated the skin, and circled around one's heart. It was the kind of cold Illumi couldn’t stand working in. It was why he was excited to get his job over quickly and painlessly tonight.

His original target was supposed to be a businessman who had wronged them. Well... he probably fit the “businessman” category, but it was doubtful that he had done anything to intentionally cause their family harm. When his father gave him a directive, it wasn’t exactly within his parameters to ask questions. Probing wouldn’t have earned him any special treatment anytime soon. Asking the wrong questions never got anyone anywhere in this world. It was an important lesson that had been ingrained into him and his siblings since they were children.

Illumi jumped over another pipe, almost tripping over a pile of bricks on the other side. He looked up in time to see a flash of yellow and a glint of moonlight off the barrel of a gun, his target facing him, the pursuer. He barely had time to process before there was a flurry of bullets being sent his way.

_Where did he get the damn tommy gun?!_ He thought in a panic, his eyes widening.

Illumi ducked and rolled, stopping himself when he was hidden behind a brick chimney stack. The bullets seemed endless, embedding themselves in the cement roof and chipping away at Illumi’s only defense. The sound was deafening, leaving him with little brain space to think of a rational plan of escape.

And then, there was a blessed clicking noise as the gun finally ran out of bullets. Illumi relaxed his chest, pulling three pins from his jacket and tensing his muscles, preparing to go on the attack. He sprung out from his hiding place, sending the three pins to fan out, hoping that at least one of them would catch this abnormal being. He stood to his full height, watching the pins hit their marks. The one that sailed left hit a pipe, releasing an overpowered trail of hot steam, partially concealing the man as he turned and continued to run.

He heard a crunch of brick crumbling and a hiss of pain from the man. One of his pins had found the desired target. Illumi put on an extra burst of speed, hoping to end this annoyance and deal with the injured target in a timely manner.

The Man. Kept. Running.

It was almost supernatural. Illumi’s pins carried a toxin that should have caused immense pain. It was so powerful it could floor a full grown man at the very least. Hell, it could probably drop an elephant if Illumi coated it with enough poison. But that was besides the point. The point was that this man seemed to be more resilient than any other adversary Illumi had ever faced off against, and that was saying something. He had once accidentally killed a heavyweight with a lethal dosage on one of his pins, and now, this shadow man was running with the weapon still embedded into his skin. _How?_

Illumi shot through the veil of steam that concealed the rooftop, figuring it would be quicker than jumping to the ground to pursue him. It was his fault that the steam burned across his skin, leaving angry welts along his arm. But it didn’t matter. He would catch his prey.

The man he pursued now was responsible for almost half of the headaches in his life. The Zoldycks were a family of assassins. That much anybody knew. Illumi was regularly tasked with the elimination of threats and targets that had been provided by other wealthy and powerful figures. He was the family’s main worker when it came to the art of the kill. Recently, however, this man, whomever he was, had somehow been locating and disposing of Illumi’s targets before he even had the chance to figure out where they were. It was maddening.

No matter how hard he tried, no matter where he looked and who he asked, he could never find the person responsible for the kills. He could only find morsels of information. With these bits and pieces, he had learned that the man was responsible for the deaths of more than just Illumi’s targets. Apparently the police had been having a difficult time catching the culprit as well. No one knew anything about his looks or his whereabouts, only that he left a playing card on the body of his victims and seemed to leave no trace regarding how he got in and out of the places he broke in to. Some even called him an angry spirit, but Illumi had been in the business long enough to know the signs of a man who lusted for blood.

But tonight was a miracle, a godsend. When Illumi had broken into the businessman’s apartment he expected just another corpse, or if he was lucky, a living victim. Instead, however, he found a tall, muscular, red-haired man towering over the still-twitching body of his target. Whenever Illumi had found them before, the bodies had already gone cold, a star and a teardrop branded into the skin on their faces. But on this evening, when he had found the killer and the target, the shadow man had thrown a card in his direction, embedding it into the wall beside Illlumi’s head. In the split second it had taken him to look and realize that he had in fact thrown the Joker’s Wild, the man had jumped out the open window, taunting Illumi with a malicious grin. Of course Illumi had followed. He wasn’t one to give up on a simple game of chase. Humans were persistence predators, him no different. Once he had his sights set upon something or someone, they were already dead.

Illumi gritted through the pain. He was no stranger to it, after all. Although Illumi himself didn’t slow his pace, it was becoming evident that the poison was doing its job and slowing his target. He was getting sloppier in his decision making.

It was only because of this that Illumi was able to spot the opening that would allow him to take the lead and cut his target off. He only had to make a jump. Of course, it was always the simple things that went the most wrong. Or maybe, the man had predicted his idea and compensated for it. Either way, mid-jump, a fedora flew at his face, thrown by the man he was chasing, knocking him out of the air and ruining his chance of clearing the gap between rooftops.

Illumi was able to recover (for the most part) before he hit the ground, utilizing a technique that made him able to land safely. Although the breath was knocked out of him, he made a quick recovery. The man was making his escape, and if he didn’t follow, the target would most surely get away. Who knew when he would have another chance to kill the man who had been making his life miserable for months? He surely didn’t. And so he was unable to stop.

He got up and continued to run through the dark alleyways, keeping an eye on the figure above him. He made mental note of any of the directions the shadowy figure would consider going in order to escape Illumi’s pursuit. Except he hadn’t accounted for the possibility that the man would turn back and face him head-on.

The red-haired man turned on a dime as it seemed, and leaped across the alleyway to another rooftop that was closer to Illumi’s position. His silhouette seemed to dance with glee in the moonlight, the knives he threw, glistening under the bright light of the stars. If the scene were a painting, it would have been titled _Danger Sous La Lune_.

The knives, of course, were an actual problem that Illumi barely avoided in time, if only because of his slightly weakened state and the fact that he was completely taken by surprise at his target’s unforeseeable display of open aggression. Illumi dodged out of the way of the two knives that came whistling through the air in his direction, barely being able to contort his body in time to dodge a third one that was somehow aimed at the place he had dodged to. The man had known what move Illumi would make before he had made it. That took skill and precision. It only strengthened the thought that Illumi was dealing with no ordinary opponent.

A fourth knife grazed his already injured arm.

_Where in the hell is he getting all of these weapons?!_ Illumi thought to himself in frustration.

He made a face in distaste and set to reaching his opponent on even footing. Illumi was able to scale a couple stacks of crates before he had to leap onto a fire escape, struggling to grasp at the rusty metal ladder. Nonetheless, he was successful in his attempt and was soon standing tall at the edge of the rooftop, the red-haired man there to greet him.

The man smirked, leading Illumi to form a scowl that may have made the air turn to ice around them. The man seemed unaffected, succeeding in frustrating Illumi all the more. They stood in silence. It seemed to be a battle of wills. Who would break first was the ultimate question.

“Who are you?” It was Illumi who broke first.

“Does it really matter?” the man purred.

“You made it matter when you came after MY targets,” Illumi growled.

“Hmmm, fair point~ Too bad I won't tell you.”

Without another word, Illumi lunged, going on the attack. The man dodged his first attempt easily. Without too much exertion on his part, Illumi spun back around on the ball of his foot, driving his fist towards the man’s head with, what should have been, quite an impressive feat of strength. Again the man dodged with ease.

Illumi sighed in frustration as he used the momentum from his previous attack to drive a kick to where his opponent’s head should have been. However, his target was already gone when his kick reached the place where it would’ve made contact. He spun again, driving the foot that he had used to kick into the ground, powering his jump that allowed him to leap over the ginger’s head and attack from behind.

Again Illumi lashed out, attempting to spear the stranger’s neck in a place that he knew would render him immobile. The man whipped around with inhuman speed, blocking his attack and delivering a powerful and painful open-handed punch that sent Illumi flying backwards until his back collided with more metal piping.

“Ow,” Illumi wheezed softly.

This wasn’t a normal battle. That much, Illumi knew. He would have to get serious about his strategy. That’s when a plan formed in his mind. The man must have been out of weapons by now, meaning that hand-to-hand was the only option he would allow. Unfortunately for the ginger, Illumi was fully stocked with various pins and poisons.

Illumi reached across his chest, plucking three needles from his jacket. He secured one in his right hand, the other two in his left, hiding the action behind his back. Looking like you were up to something made people get cocky. If he relied upon his speed alone, he wouldn't stand a chance at beating his rival.

Lurching forward, Illumi feigned an attempt at stabbing his opponent from the left, causing the red-head to dodge to the right. Illumi lost one of the pins in his left hand in the process, but it was of no concern.

_How predictable,_ Illumi thought, letting out a small chuckle. He took the second needle that he had hidden and let out a grunt as he swung his other arm around and pierced the strangers neck.

“Oww, what was that for?” The ginger mocked as he reached for the pin in his neck. “Too bad… it seems that your poison doesn’t work on me.” He threw the needle to the floor. “Now, here’s a riddle: what are we going to do about you?” 

The man circled him as a predator would circle it’s prey. Not many things got to Illumi, but the calm demeanor and evil glint in the man’s eye was disconcerting. He wasn’t used to being the prey. He decided that he hated it.

All of a sudden, the man paused. The stranger’s eyes went wide as he grasped his head in pain and let out a prolonged wince.

Illumi remained silent. He knew that the poison's effects, delayed as they were, would start to take action around then. The stranger was starting to wobble, finding it difficult to maintain proper posture. It was Illumi’s turn to smirk over the small victory.

Now that his target was nearly incapacitated, Illumi surged forward, tackling the man and bringing them both to a horizontal position on the rooftop. He used his arm to pin the ginger’s neck, his leg to pin down his torso.

“I will ask you once more; who are you and why have you been killing my targets?”

The man smirked, offering no reply. He exhaled from his nose, his eyes slowly closing in the process. The man’s breathing became slowed and even.

_He must’ve passed out_ , Illumi thought. He released his death grip on the ginger.

His mistake.

The man’s eyes shot open as he jumped upwards, hooking his leg around Illumi’s and throwing him to the side so he could roll on top of the now-pinned Illumi.

“Damnit,” was all Illumi was able to grunt as the tables were turned and he was made the victim.

“What's wrong? Not used to being the bottom~?”

Illumi snarled up at him, attempting to hide the small bit of heat rising in his cheeks. “Are you always this provocative?”

“Hmm. Maybe...” He seemed to ponder it for a moment, a small smile forming on his face as he turned and looked away.

Illumi grunted again, attempting to use his full force to throw his opponent off of his body. The man pinned him back down, no problem. He didn’t even seem to break his concentration.

“You know what?” His head turned back to face Illumi, his gaze boring down on his. “Since it's clear you have a small obsession with me, I guess there’s no harm in telling you my name…” he trailed off in almost a wistful tone.

Illumi stilled, raising an eyebrow in a silent question. “Care to continue?”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “It’s Hisoka.”

“Hisoka? What a stupid name.”

“You're not being very nice you know~” He seemed to pout at his comment. “If i wanted to, I could just kill you here. It’s not like there’s anyone here to stop me. But I've decided, out of the goodness of my heart, to spare you... for now at least.”

“Some mercy that is.”

“Who ever said anything about mercy? Consider this just a delay to your murder.”

Illumi was unable to stop his face from forming a sneer. He took a moment to calm himself and return his face to a blank state.

“I would doubt that.”

The man raised an eyebrow.

“Now, consider your options: I kill you here and now, or you get off of me and leave this place _and stop eliminating my targets._ ” The last part was practically a hiss.

“Don't take this the wrong way... but I don't think you’re in a good place to be making demands, my dear friend.”

If looks could kill, Illumi would have wiped out the city block.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

The red-haired man smirked, obviously thinking that no harm would come to him. He was wrong.

Quick as a flash, Illumi opened his palm to reveal the pin hidden within it, twirled it to secure his grip, and drove it upwards. He inserted the needle into the side of the man’s neck, perhaps a tad bit more aggressively than was necessary. The man seemed surprised. It wasn’t like Illumi hadn’t warned him.

The ginger relaxed his grip, bringing his hand to his neck, his face still frozen in surprise.

“Well played…” he murmured before his body gave out completely. The man fell directly on top of Illumi. He was definitely heavier than Illumi had thought. It took him a couple tries, but Illumi was able to remove the unconscious body from on top of him.

Illumi stood, kicking the man away from him. From there night was silent, the only hint of the fight was from the hiss of steam leaking from a punctured pipe a few rooftops back. No one would ever know what happened here. It was always Illumi’s goal to never leave a trace. That meant no bodies… He looked back over his shoulder at the man. If he left him, he would be dead within the hour. His heart would come to a stop and his body would be discovered sometime later in the week.

_Unless..._


	2. We Talk Without Communicating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hisoka can't do math.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your kind comments! They fuel our writing and make us actually want to continue.

When Hisoka came to, his eyes were still unable to open, his limbs not responding to his direction. He was awake but trapped within his body. He was trapped within his own personal prison. His mouth wouldn’t form the words he knew were his power. He was helpless. And he  _ hated _ it. Hisoka knew that, in this world, you were no one without power. The power of life and death was one that he held with pride, but his inability to function even as a human being right now, it made him angry. Angry enough to know that he wouldn’t spare the life of the man who had put him in this place.

“Are you afraid… Hisoka?” An icy voice broke the silence.

Hisoka didn’t respond, possibly out of spite.

“It’s a genuine question. One minute, you’re battling on a rooftop, the next, you’re paralyzed and at my mercy.”

Deciding he would play the game, Hisoka decided on a course of action. He was only able to hum a response, still unable to use his face.

Hisoka could’ve sworn he heard a whisper of something along the lines of “still out of it then.”

In that instant, Hisoka felt a painful sting on his cheek as, what he only assumed could be a hand, slapped him across the face.

“I’m not going to tolerate half-remarks.” 

Hisoka, finding he could somewhat open his mouth, attempted to move his tongue around. “I-ishh that-t shoo?”

This earned him another slap.

“Address me, only when you can form a coherent sentence.” Something about this man’s voice seemed to carry an undercurrent of distress.

Hisoka resisted the urge to chuckle. It probably would’ve come out as more of a gurgle anyways, all things considered. Better to wait though. No reason for unnecessary bloodshed. Well, bloodshed on this man’s part. He only had to be patient. Patience defined his life. It was something he could deal with. In fact, that was his favorite part about his job. The wait. Waiting was when everything interesting took place. The kill only lasted for a handful of seconds, but the hunt? The stalking of the prey? That took time. That took craft. Even now, sitting immobile in this chair, he found great satisfaction in the anticipation. Would he savour this kill? Or would he end it quickly? The man who had bested him surely deserved a painless death, but in beating him, he had insulted Hisoka’s skill, and therefore deserved an agonizing demise.

How to pass the time was the question. Hmm what riddles could he think up? There was that one that he never bothered solving from an opponent he faced a couple years ago… Surely now was the appropriate time to indulge in matters of the mind.

_ Two coins make thirty cents. One of them isn’t a nickel. _ How intriguing. Pennies… Only one cent. Quarters… Twenty five. A dime… ten cents.  _ But one of them isn’t a nickel. _ How disappointing. A simple riddle, and he was unable to solve it. He let out a small laugh out of disappointment in himself.

“It'd be wise for you to learn how to shut up,” the icy voice remarked.

His chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh. Another slap accompanied it.

_ Oh this is going to be fun. _ He wanted to smile, he really did. 

\----------------

After ten minutes of exhausting different pairings of coins in his mind, he began to regain feeling in his toes. Over time, the feeling spread up through his legs, allowing him to regain the ability to make the slightest movement without his captor realizing it.

Another ten minutes passed by in a blur, all the while, Hisoka regaining feeling in his limbs. Finally, he was able to move his tongue without it feeling like a wet slab of meat in his mouth. Eventually his eyelids became functional. His body had recovered. Of course, his captor didn’t need to know that.

Now that he was able to feel his entire body, Hisoka made an attempt to sense and map his surroundings without the use of his sight. If someone was watching, then they hopefully wouldn’t realize that he had awoken.

He drew a deep breath in through his nose. Mildew. The atmosphere was thick with the stench of a dungeon that had been left to rot. The air was stale, probably infected with the dying breaths of all those unfortunate to have perished within this prison. Hisoka felt sick to his stomach, but at the same time, the smell of rotting corpses was something that enlivened him. He had pieced together that his captor was an assassin, that fact had been made clear by his physical and mental prowess, but the way this place felt seemed disconnected to the efficient way he had assumed his jailer functioned. Where his opponent was quick and clean, this place seemed dirty and slow to rot.

Hisoka continued to reach out with his senses, attempting to ignore the putrid smell.

“I know you’re awake,” the voice called out.

So much for pretending. Hisoka blinked open his eyes to a dark room and what he could only assume was a cell. After adjusting to the slight difference in lighting, Hisoka’s gaze landed upon a man sitting on the other side of a set of metal bars. It was the man he had fought along the rooftops. He seemed to still be wearing his battle garb, as was made evident by the torn pant leg and untreated injuries. It was funny how little Hisoka took care to notice the physical appearances of his rivals. In a battle, there wasn’t much strategy in noticing the soft curve to one’s jaw. Now, after viewing the man that had somehow defeated him in combat, he realized that everything about this man said “assassin.”

It was quite comical, really. Hisoka had just assumed he was a serial killer such as himself. That was why he had attempted to reach out by “eliminating his targets,” as the other man had put it.

“Your nose twitched, that’s how I could tell. Although I must say that I commend you for your restraint of activity.”

Hisoka locked eyes with the man before him. Dark. His eyes were darker than a night on a new moon. It contrasted his pale face nicely. His captor seemed rather feminine in his features, and yet, something about him seemed very dominant at the same time, a perfect balance. It was almost unsettling, but then again, many things about his current situation were almost unsettling.

“For most, it takes hours to regain consciousness, much less feeling and movement.”

Hisoka didn’t respond.

“I wonder how long it will take for you to regain control of your body…” he trailed off, seeming to have lost interest.

He got up from his chair outside of the cell and walked to the door. Metal ground against stone, creating a painfully shrill pitch as he opened the cell door. The man walked inside, seemingly unaffected or unsurprised by the state of the prison.

Hisoka’s eyes roamed the man’s body, attempting to pinpoint any weaknesses that could later come in handy. His eyes lingered on the bloody gash running the length of his leg.  _ That may come in handy later. _

“Now, the question is… How good are you at small talk?”

Hisoka smirked. “It really depends… what can I expect to follow said small talk?”

“Ah… so he can hold a conversation,” the corners of the man’s mouth turned upwards for a split second.

“Indeed he can,” Hisoka purred.

“So then, you wouldn’t mind telling me your  _ real _ name?”

“I honestly don't know how much more blunt I can be. I already told you, my name is Hisoka.”

“Really? Hisoka? Did your parents not love you or something?.”

Hisoka scoffed in mock offense. “That really is very rude.”

“I would apologize for my disrespect, but I don’t really care. You see, truths don’t come so easily in my line of work.”

“How unfortunate.”

“It really is. But being surrounded by so many lies… You learn to take the truth from people-” he picked a pin from his jacket- “by whatever means necessary.”

Hisoka’s gaze traveled to the sharp needle. He had to force himself to stop his hand from traveling to his neck.

“I'd be careful using those, they really do hurt.”

“Th-thats the point?” he genuinely seemed confused.

Hisoka was unable to stop the laugh that spilled from his throat. The man seemed even more confused than before.

The man regained his composure. “Anyways-”

“Wait,” Hisoka interrupted him, “I don’t even know your name yet. They do say that all good relationships are built on give and take, you know.”

He seemed to actually consider Hisoka’s proposal, oddly enough. Apparently deciding there was no harm in the action, he spoke. “It’s Illumi.”

“Hmm, Illumi you say?”

He didn’t respond, but Hisoka could’ve sworn that he saw the slightest nod of the man’s head.

“Who is your employer?” Illumi questioned.

“Hmmm. No one. Others just slow me down.”

“Your eyes speak otherwise.”

“Do they? Oh, my mistake~”

“Care to correct yourself?”

“No, not really.”

The man was noticeably growing frustrated by his lack of cooperation.  _ Oh this will be too easy, _ Hisoka thought, a small smile appearing on his face. No harm in having some more fun then.

“Now! Are you taking dinner orders at this time? I really am  _ quite _ famished. I didn’t eat before I went out tonight and, well, I got a little held up, you see-”

“I think you are mistaken. I am the one asking questions here. Do you feel like continuing this conversation? Or are you going to stall a bit longer?”

Hisoka could barely stop himself from grinning. “I do believe I shall stall a bit longer.”

Illumi tensed up, seeming to barely be containing his frustration or disappointment, Hisoka couldn’t tell.

“Well then- I shall wait for your… Compliance,” he trailed off again. He kept doing that.

Illumi turned and walked out of Hisoka’s cell, closing the screeching metal door behind him.  _ How old is this cell?  _ Hisoka thought.

His captor returned to his chair, picking up a cloth from the table beside him as he did so. There was an array of pins on the table, it seemed. Illumi picked up one of the pins, using the cloth to.. Clean the metal?  _ How unusual... _ After a minute of wiping down the metal and inspecting it several times, he put down the pin and picked up another one of a different design. He began to repeat the process.

“Are you… polishing those pins?” He was genuinely curious. Such an odd thing to do to pins.

Illumi stopped his work and glanced at Hisoka. His gaze seemed devoid of any emotion. Without another word, he stood, openly brandishing the most recent pin. He retreated down the hall without so much as a sound. He was light footed, even for an assassin. Hisoka waited, taking the moment to quickly stretch his aching limbs, attempting to listen for the drip and splash of footsteps on a wet stone floor.

There was a scream that would have made a normal man’s blood turn to ice. It was followed by a loud thud. No matter how hard he tried, Hisoka could only barely make out the gurgling sound of what he assumed to be a man choking on his own blood. Based on what he heard, his captor had executed a man violently, somehow making it so he choked on his own blood and died a painful death. Well… The man was still  _ dying _ so it was probably quite painful at the time being. It made Hisoka smile. He truly was at the mercy of a killer of quite a high caliber.

The splashing grew louder as Illumi drew nearer. Hisoka returned to his original position, his muscles straining against the pain. It didn’t matter, he would be free soon enough. His captor returned to his field of vision, the only hint at his previous act, a speck of blood on his cheek.

Hisoka raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Dried blood is unfavorable.” the way he said the word made it seem as though the man had tasted something sour.

Illumi sat down, taking up the cloth again.

“Too much for your appetite~?” Hisoka teased. 

Illumi bristled at the comment but refused to say another word. Hisoka could have sworn that Illumi rolled his eyes, but the man turned away before he could confirm anything.

“If blood is so  _ unfavorable _ as you put it, you should take a look at your cheek.” Hisoka flicked his finger in reference, figuring a small movement as that wouldn’t give away his position.

Illumi turned back to face his prisoner, looking slightly confused, bringing his hand to his left cheek. He touched it and took his hand away, his gaze trailing after it. Something flickered across the man’s face, his gaze hardening.

“My mistake,” he murmured, wiping the blood on the cleaning cloth.

The room returned to its near-silent state. The only noise came from the quiet dripping of some nearby pipe or drain and Hisoka’s shallow breaths. A small metallic noise came every handful of seconds when Illumi placed a pin on a table. It was uncomfortable at best.

His eyes drifted over the man before him, stopping when he came to his exposed neck. It looked like porcelain from afar. He wondered if up close it would shatter the same when he crushed it beneath his hands.

Hisoka decided to fill the silence, furthering his plan while he was at it. “You know, before you caught me, I had been watching you. Well- tailing you is probably a better word for it.”

Illumi turned to look at Hisoka, something in his eyes was different. Almost… curious? No. Fearful was probably a better word for it.

His voice was quiet and if Hisoka hadn’t seen his lips move, he wouldn’t have even known that Illumi had spoken. “How did you…”

“Your kills were always so beautifully executed. I had assumed that you were more of a hands on murderer, such as myself-” he moved his hands at the wrist, gesturing to himself- “but it really is quite unfortunate.”

Hisoka could see Illumi deciding on whether or not to take the bait. In the end, he did.

“And what is it that would be  _ unfortunate _ ?”

Hisoka smiled, satisfied with himself. His plan was going so much better than he could’ve imagined. “Well you see, I was so looking forward to our meeting. Though I must admit, I had hoped that someone of your talents wouldn’t be such a coward.”

Illumi began to bristle yet again.

“How sad that I was mistaken.”

Anger. Blinding anger. It seemed to consume the man before him.

Hisoka had never been a believer in the supernatural. All the demons were here on this earth. Humans committed more unspeakable horrors than anything from the underworld could. But now, standing before this man drenched in icy wrath… Well, the scene was enough to turn any non-believer into a god-fearing, repentant ass. He had hit a nerve, and it seemed he would pay for it.

_ I can work with that. _ He thought smugly.

If Illumi had pulled any harder on the cell door, it may have ripped off its hinges and gone flying through the wall. If he had crossed the cell space any quicker, he may have traveled faster than light. If he had grabbed Hisoka’s collar and pulled him forward any more suddenly, his neck may have snapped. The man bled danger.

“…Mistaken, eh? Now tell me,  _ trash _ , how am  _ I _ the coward?”

Hisoka smirked, deciding to play the game. “Well, you see-”

“Did I ask for your opinion?!” Illumi roared, his face contorting in anger. “May I remind you that  _ I  _ was the one who chased you down and outsmarted you? How  _ you  _ are the one who continues to hide behind your words and schemes? If I am a coward, then that makes you the dirt I walk on.” As his speech progressed, his voice became colder, more controlled. He spoke as though his tongue had become a snake. His voice was a hiss that made Hisoka want to shiver.

“You did ask for my opinion. I’ll add overly emotional to the list,” he mocked.

He watched as Illumi tensed up, regained control, and relaxed, all within the span of about two seconds. He had to admit, his self control was quite astounding. Most people yelled at Hisoka the moment he opened his mouth. It made Hisoka smile.

Of course, that smile was momentarily wiped off his face when Illumi rounded on him and delivered a painful backhand. That one hurt more than the rest. Hisoka’s face split out into his most gleeful grin of the evening. Illumi was truly a worthy opponent, as long as he wasn’t controlling the power he used, that is.

Hisoka chuckled, drawing a confused glance from Illumi. “You really would be a most excellent serial killer. If you were bolder and used your full strength, that is.”

Hisoka shifted his foot, preparing to attack. Illumi saw it too late. Hisoka jumped up out of his chair, making a grab at Illumi’s wrist. His opponent let go of Hisoka’s clothing and dodged out of the way in haste, forgetting that their battle was confined to a cell, and backing into the metal bars. Hisoka took his chance and dashed forward, aiming an elbow to the gut. Unfortunately, it seemed that although the poison had mostly worn off, his brain wasn’t fully recovered from being unconscious due to the new toxin. He swayed from his path, allowing Illumi to dodge his attack.

Hisoka ran into the bars, attempting to push off of them and begin his next attack. However, his plan was cut short when Illumi rammed into his back, slamming Hisoka back against the bars. Quicker than Hisoka thought was possible for his opponent, Illumi jammed his shoulder forward while pulling back on his wrist, putting him in an arm bar that he would be unable to break without either dislocating his shoulder or breaking his arm. It did give him an insight into his enemy’s weakness though. Judging by how his enemy fought and restrained him, Hisoka would have to guess that Illumi was left-handed. In their original fight, he had fought ambidextrously. Besides, Hisoka didn’t have time to figure out his dominant hand then.

Now, Hisoka was able to use his other hand to twist around and grab Illumi’s. He was met with a fist to the cheek and a head to a metal bar. Hisoka’s vision shook with the force of the blow. It hurt like hell, but he had to keep fighting. The poison’s effects were still taking a toll on him, much to Hisoka’s disappointment. It was taking a toll on his stamina and fighting abilities. Thankfully for him, he was able to use his right leg to hook around his opponent’s, much like in their previous fight. This time Illumi didn’t fall, instead deciding to retreat backwards, deeper into the cell, using Hisoka’s momentum against him. Hisoka stumbled to the floor, making a last-ditch attempt to regain balance, but ultimately failing and falling to his knees.

The cell door was open. Illumi hadn’t closed it behind himself when he had flown in, caught in a blind rage. It was Hisoka’s opening. Instead of using his peripheral vision, as would have been the smart move, Hisoka’s eyes flicked over to the opportunity, giving Illumi a warning to his next action.

Hisoka and Illumi lunged at nearly the same time, resulting in a tangling ball of limbs, both attempting to drag the other back into the dark cell while making their escape. Punches were thrown, not many of them actually hitting their desired targets. Both men lashed out, kicking and wrestling their way to an attempted victory. They scratched at each other, tearing skin and silk alike.

Eventually, due to Hisoka’s nearly-concussed delirium, Illumi got the upper hand, delivering a powerful kick to Hisoka’s chest that sent him backwards while somehow also propelling his opponent forwards. It allowed him to scramble out of the cell and clamber to his feet, leaving Hisoka behind with the smell of rot. The cell door was pulled shut with the shriek of metal on stone. A clicking noise followed, signaling the lock had been put to use.

Sighing in frustration, Hisoka took his time pulling himself to his feet. Illumi seemed to also have been making an attempt at pulling himself together. It didn’t really matter. He looked disheveled anyways due to the state of his hair and clothing. Illumi smoothed his hair back. Somehow it fell back into place, almost perfectly. Although he seemed haggard in looks, mannerisms did speak quite loudly over the din of appearance. It did, at least, when you had one as rigid and intimidating as the man before him. Hisoka knew that his own was quite imposing. Although his current outfit didn’t speak much for it. He wore a dark suit that allowed him to blend with a crowd and melt into the shadows. An outfit made to not stand out like his personality. His hair was usually the dead giveaway, which is why he wore a fedora to cover the bright red. He had lost it during the chase when he had made an attempt to slow his pursuer.

Hisoka leaned against the cell bars, looking down on Illumi, who met his gaze without flinching. He started laughing, unable to stop. Concern flashed across Illumi’s eyes. The man finally broke eye contact, looking down the hallway. A minute later, he turned and started walking, not even glancing at Hisoka.

His laugh died away after a few moments.

“Hey! You aren’t just going to  _ leave  _ me in here are you?” Hisoka called out to Illumi as soon as he was out of his vision.

He was met with silence mixed with the constant drip of water on stone.

“I have a very important party to attend to tonight! I can’t just  _ not _ show up!” he whined, suddenly remembering his prior commitment.

He couldn’t even hear the faint footsteps that the assassin created with his stomps.

“The host is going to be disappointed!”

Illumi definitely wasn’t coming back to him anytime soon.

_ Perfect. _

With a smile meant for only himself, Hisoka pulled a long needle from the back of his jacket. During their small wrestling match, Hisoka had been able to steal a pin from Illumi’s vest in an attempt to hold back the assassin from escaping the cell. While the man was composing himself, he had managed to thread it into his suit jacket so he would appear empty-handed. Now that he was alone, however, he could use the inconspicuous weapon to his advantage.

He had to applaud Illumi for his bizarre choice of weaponry. Although, his own choice of weaponry wasn’t exactly something you would call orthodox. Playing cards were quite dangerous when used properly though. But  _ pins _ , that was something Hisoka thought to be interesting.

Based on the durability of Illumi’s miniature weapons, Hisoka would have to assume that they were constructed of some reinforced metal. What kind, however, Hisoka couldn’t be sure.

Hisoka had picked his fair share of locks, his career considered. Getting locked up was an inconvenience, breaking out, a hobby. Point was, the pin was most likely strong enough to pick the rusted lock on Hisoka’s cell door.

Hisoka pressed himself against the bars, threading his arm through the metal. The closest he could get to the lock while stretching his furthest wasn’t enough. He couldn’t quite reach his hand to a position where he could actually fit the pin into the lock.  _ How unfortunate. _

He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Hisoka sighed in disappointment and reached further, trapping his shoulder between the cell bars.  _ Okay then, one… two… three- _

He violently jerked his body away from the opening. An audible pop followed his action accompanied by a small grunt of pain.  _ That’ll definitely bruise by tomorrow…  _ Hisoka could handle pain inflicted upon him, honestly it was one of his several special abilities, but still, the idea of dislocating his shoulder alone is the thing that brought him the most discomfort. After taking a few breaths in order to try to find his composure again, Hisoka twisted his arm in such a way that allowed him to reach out barely an inch further, thankfully this was far enough to reach the lock.

Inserting Illumi’s pin into the cell door, Hisoka was able to work the key-like object to disable the locking mechanism. After a couple of minutes of making small adjustments to the needles position, the lock finally clicked and the door swung open. Hisoka hummed a note in satisfaction, took a deep breath, and paused for about ten seconds before proceeding out of the now-open cell and into the darkly lit hallway.

_ Such a shame about that party... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!


	3. Dark Hallways and Stupid Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big ginger idiot tries to escape his femboy husband's mansion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our defense, the both of us were on either anesthesia or really strong pain killers when writing this chapter, so beware of things that just don't make sense- odds are that we won't fix them so just don't tell us about them please

“Ughh. Do you like creating more work for me? Why can’t you be careful?! ” Leorio practically shouted at Illumi.

Illumi resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the easily angered doctor before him. The man could be… zealous at times. He was committed to his work, but that meant that careless mistakes and stupid injuries were very rarely tolerated by him. Unfortunately for the Zoldyck household, Leorio Paladinight was the best doctor around and therefore had a promising career patching up his patron’s family members.

“Well, he wasn’t exactly a normal opponent,” Illumi responded in a curt manner.

“What the hell does that have anything to do with it?” the doctor growled.

“I had to actually fight him this time, he kept running even with one of my pins stuck in his arm.” Illumi never appreciated the fact that this man seemed unable to extrapolate from incomplete information. He didn’t want to talk more than was necessary, and he never got his wish while interacting with Leorio.

“Damn, he sounds pretty strong then.” Leorio dug through his briefcase, pausing to look up at Illumi. “Does he have any wounds I need to attend to?”

Illumi took a moment to construct a mental image of Hisoka and how he looked when Illumi last saw him 10 minutes ago. He had a wound where Illumi’s pin had found Hisoka’s arm. Maybe a few bruises and scrapes from their fights. Other than that, there shouldn’t have been anything of major concern.

“I don’t believe so… My poisons seemed to lose their effect on him quicker than most. Not to mention I gave him the antidote before I brought him here.”

“Great. That means he still has open wounds from the injections. You know, not everyone has your immune system.”

It really was so very hard to not roll his eyes when Illumi was dealing with the family doctor. He bit back a retort. Of course he knew that other people weren’t like his family. He wasn’t an idiot.

“Once I’m done here, you’re taking me down there so I can bandage him up. He may be a prisoner but you should still have standards.”

Illumi sighed. Knowing there was no point in arguing, he chose to change the subject. “Can you fix this-” he gestured at his injured leg- “or not?”

“Of course I can fix it! I’m a doctor for christ’s sake!”

Leorio turned his attention back to his briefcase, rooting around for something it seemed. In the meantime, Illumi took the time to examine his leg. When he had slid along the stone, his pant leg had torn, creating a large opening that exposed the side of his leg. He was also now sporting a bloody gash in his skin that was peppered with bits of gravel and dirt. It wasn’t the worst injury he had ever received. To be honest, it wasn’t even that painful anymore.

The doctor finally found whatever it was he was looking for. Illumi decided that cleaning the wound would most likely take a while. He took off his vest, irritating the raised skin on his arm. The steam burn was still tender. That was another thing that Leorio would have to attend to.

Illumi set to work on cleaning and taking stock of his weapons. There were several pin cushions stationed beside him so he could separate them by size and purpose. In a world as chaotic as this one, Illumi strived to create what order he could.

He used the cloth to finish scrubbing dried blood from the metal, counting the pins as he went.

_ Interesting man, that Hisoka character. He had dared to interfere with my work and acted like  _ I _ was the one inconveniencing him. _

He wiped down another needle and set it in the pin cushion.

_ I don’t think I’ve ever faced an adversary such as him. _

Illumi frowned. He seemed to be a difficult man. Illumi wasn’t used to fighting someone with a skill set equal to his. To think he was going to let the man die on the rooftop. Illumi had only brought him back because he seemed to be worth interrogating. Someone who was able to overpower someone such as himself, learn of his target’s whereabouts, and get to them with enough time to mutilate their faces as he had was definitely someone worth bringing in. Illumi had even volunteered to question the man himself. Although, that may have been done as payment for bringing back an unplanned prisoner and creating potential trouble for the manor.

Usually the questioning was left to Milluki. With his whip, he could beat the truth out of anyone. Illumi had been intrigued and angered by the fighting spirit of the man who had almost gotten the best of him. It was why he was alright with taking charge of the interrogation. Illumi wasn’t used to events such as these though. He was usually only assigned assassination jobs or work that required espionage. He was good at blending in and melting away. The most difficult people he usually had to deal with were idiotic grunts working for an important client. His temper wasn’t built to deal with disrespectful prisoners.

Somehow Hisoka had figured out exactly how to push all of Illumi’s buttons.

Illumi continued on polishing his pins, his grip on the cloth ever so tighter. He cleaned for some time devoid of all thought until he came to a complete pause. He looked down at the pin cushions and began recounting his pins.  _ 38… plus the one in my hand, now where does that leave the 40th one?  _ Illumi began patting himself down trying to check for any loose needles that might have gotten caught on his clothes. There weren't any. Illumi wasn't the type of person to leave things lying around randomly, so there was no way he could have lost it.  _ Don’t tell me- did this idiot really steal from me?  _ Illumi felt his breath harden as he clenched his jaw. Unfortunately, for the next half hour or so, he would have to sit here under the care of the doctor.

Leorio looked up from his medical equipment. “Is something wrong master Illumi?” 

Illumi blinked for a moment before finally coming out of his thoughts “No, there's nothing wrong at all.”  _ That fucking bastard, i just know he stole the pin, I bet he’s crawling around the manor right at this moment.  _ Though Illumi was full of rage, a small, microscopic part of him was impressed. The fact that he planned so far ahead with such little time, filled illumi with awe and admiration. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. If he couldn't do anything about it for now, he might as well calm himself down. Besides, someone else could handle it. There was a reason no prisoners who came into their home ever left alive.

_ Please just let someone else besides Milluki be home tonight. _

…

Hisoka took off his suit jacket and hung it over his dislocated shoulder. Best to hide the injury in case he met anyone.

The hallways were almost as dark as the dungeon Hisoka had just crawled out of. Almost, but not quite. An eerie glow from gas lamps every few feet seemed to wash everything in a distorted light. It made his vision swim a bit. He found it humorous, the feeling of hilarity eclipsing the cold uncertainty that was seeding its way into his heart. Hisoka had seen the inside of a prison cell on more than one occasion. He had spent much of his time as a youth being sent to and breaking out of them. His compatriots had taught him how, but Hisoka had truly excelled when he was left to his own devices.

Hisoka looked back over his shoulder, hoping to map his surroundings to the best of his abilities in an attempt at staging a more effective escape.

To get out of this prison, Hisoka had to climb a set of, what he thought to be, never ending stairs. He hadn’t realised that he had been brought so far underground. Once he had made it to the top, Hisoka had grabbed the pin, preparing to pick another lock. Fortunately for him, the door hadn’t even had a lock to begin with and simply pushed open. The wood had creaked, leading Hisoka to think that it was intentional and a much better security measure. If this was the home of an assassin, then a sound as small as that could have alerted him to Hisoka’s whereabouts easily. He would have to move quickly if he was to find a way out.

The door had been at the end of the hallway, so naturally Hisoka had continued down the path. The first junction was where he hesitated. He could continue walking forwards, or he could turn right… Both of the hallways looked similar. If Hisoka had seen two pictures, one of each hallway, he would have assumed they were one and the same. If all the hallways were like this, Hisoka was going to have one hell of a time getting out.

After a pause of around ten seconds, Hisoka felt that it would be better to go straight ahead. He found it ironic at how well the mansion's interior matched the personality of its owners (there was no way this entire building could belong to just one person). It was mysterious, but also rather predictable. The floors of the hallways were checkered with black and white linoleum flooring, or perhaps it was stone. It may have even been marble. Illumi’s family seemed like the type to have very expensive things, what with a whole personal dungeon and all. Hisoka stopped for another second, moving closer to the walls trying to examine the type of wood they were made of. The walls had intricate designs and had seemed to be made of a rich mahogany. _Oh_ _he’s definitely a rich boy._

After a while Hisoka became extremely unsettled. The house was silent except for the click of his shoes on the floor. Hisoka was unable to walk quietly, much to his frustration. It only reinforced his belief that sound was the main form of security around here. He was tense from holding himself ready to fight. Was he going insane, or did the hallway really seem to be going on forever? He kept trudging on nonetheless, until finally the path came to an abrupt end. Light peaked from around the corner as well as the faint sounds of, what Hisoka presumed to be, house-maids bustling about. He had no choice but to wait.

He didn’t have to wait for very long. The voices receded along with the light after about three minutes, plunging him into more grim silence and darkness.  _ Alone again. _

An idea popped into his head.  _ The maids would know the layout of the house, wouldn’t they? _ Hisoka glanced down the corridor at the rapidly disappearing light. He would have to make a decision quickly. He could either attempt to find his way out on his own, or he could follow the house staff and hope that they would lead him to an easy exit. Finding his own way was the safer option, but it would also most likely take a lot longer. Following the maids would be riskier. It could lead him to an escape or it could lead him further within the labyrinth and closer to unwanted interactions.  _ I may get caught, but it’s a better bet than stumbling blindly through this shit hole. _

With that thought, he started walking again, following the glow of the housemaid’s light. The corridor he had turned down seemed more decorated than the one he had just come from, though it was hard to tell from the lack of proper lighting.  _ Are these people part cat? How is anyone supposed to fucking see in this house? _ Though his eyes were getting fully adjusted to the new gloom, it didn’t mean that his journey was made any easier.

He sped up his pace, realizing that he was falling behind with his thoughts. The click of his shoes on the floor grew faster and a bit louder. Alongside that, his headache was growing. He slowed his pace just a tiny bit, attempting to lessen the sound. It created a very awkward gait that somehow just made the sound worse. It irked him to no end. He decided to pick up the pace again, hoping that his light-footed running would somehow help his situation. He kept the lantern in sight, making up ground he had momentarily lost. The light he had been following stopped shortly after he started running towards it, giving his best struggle at not falling over due to lightheadedness. 

“State your business as to why you’ve been following us.” A high-pitched feminine voice rang out through the hall.

Hisoka stopped dead in his tracks, hoping against all hope that they didn’t mean him.

“We know you’re there. You aren’t quiet, you know.” A second, significantly deeper, yet still feminine, voice followed.

With a resigned sigh, Hisoka continued forward towards the voices.

“I would ask how you knew I was here, but it really is so very hard to walk quietly on these floors,” Hisoka breathed out.

Hisoka finally reached the two housemaids. They seemed to have been waiting for him as they looked impatient and tired. Hisoka took joy in the simple things, and making people irritated was one of those such things. It gave him a boost of energy.

He stopped about ten feet away from the two women. Hisoka’s eyes gravitated towards a large painting besides the maids. It was a portrait of his new acquaintance, Illumi. Hisoka had seen his face and had an almost-fatal interaction with the man, but this piece made him look less-than-human. His face was pallid, eyes void of any emotion whatsoever. His mouth was creased into a hard line, giving him an unforgiving and cruel look so unlike the serene and calculating visage Hisoka had encountered. It was unsettling, much like everything Hisoka had experienced since earlier, and way too scary looking to be the man he had met.

“Who are you, and what is your business in the Zoldyck manor?” the first one asked again.

The second one pulled out a knife, her face scrunched into a look of aggression.

“No need for bloodshed, my dear.” Hisoka attempted to muster up the most charming smile he could manage, given the circumstances. “I am simply seeking the way out of this lovely household. I was hoping if you might help lead me to the door out~?”

Neither of the maids broke from their stone-faced concentration.

“I will ask you one more time; who are you and what is your business here?”

Hisoka sighed, saddened and frustrated that they wouldn’t play the game. He glanced at the portrait, forming an idea.

“Mmm…” he hummed. “I’m Illumi’s friend.”

“Likely story,” the second one snipped.

“It’s true. We just had the most  _ lovely _ conversation,” Hisoka mused. He gave his best performance of gazing wistfully at the painting.  _ Gotta sell it. _

“That conversation you had wouldn’t have happened to be that interrogation that master Illumi was in charge of, was it?” the first one questioned, seeming to already know the answer.

_ Damn it. _ His face fell.

The second one looked to the first. “I think that one of the guards said Master Illumi was seen carrying a ginger down to the dungeon, but I could be mistaken because no one has ever escaped from down there.”

Hisoka took a step backwards, taking the maid’s distraction as a chance to duck out of the situation. He continued taking steps backwards, trying to be as quiet as he could. He didn’t make it very far before something sharp was digging into his lower back. Hisoka let out a quiet sigh of frustration before pulling himself together and regaining his trademark smirk.

“Is that a knife at my back or are you just excited to see me?” he hummed.

“I wouldn’t say  _ excited _ so much as put out,” an unfamiliar and decidedly male voice rang out. He pressed the knife harder making Hisoka shift forwards reflexively.

“Watch the suit, would you? I’ve already angered my seamstress once this month and I’d really rather not do it again,” Hisoka aimed to pull off his best attempt at a pout.

Hisoka turned his head, allowing himself to watch the man behind him as well as the two women in front. If they were normal, Hisoka could take them on easily, but given his dislocated shoulder alongside the fact that they seemed to be trained in some form or another, Hisoka knew the odds were not stacked in his favor.  _ Such a shame. I do love a good fight. _

Against his instinct that hungered for a fresh kill, he pushed off of his back foot and made a dash between the two maids in front of him. He felt a sharp blade slice into his side as he passed them. He winced but didn’t falter in his footsteps.  _ I have done too much running this evening _ . First he had broken into that sad man’s penthouse, then he had played a game of chase with Illumi, then he had fought and gotten knocked out, and then- it just wasn’t how he had planned the evening going. Well, maybe he had accounted for the rooftop brawl, but he had expected to win. Overall, it had been exhausting and, quite frankly, a little upsetting.

He couldn’t hear footsteps behind him, but that may have been on account of his annoyingly loud shoes, echoing on the hard floors. Though the air may have felt stale when you were at a standstill, the wind running past Hisoka’s head as he ran felt refreshing compared to the dungeon he had previously been trapped in. He continued to sprint down the halls, eyes flicking over every work of art that adorned the dark walls. It seemed that there were more paintings and artifacts the further he went on. He hoped that it meant his freedom would be in sight sooner than later.

Eventually, he came to another junction, this one advertising one more hallway than the last one. Maybe he should turn right this time… Or maybe left? No. Straight was probably the best way, it would lead him on a direct path- unless that would lead him deeper into the manor. Left was a new direction. He would go left. With a nod of affirmation meant only for himself, he started running again, turning down the hallway that led to the left.

He ducked just in time for a knife to fly over him, grazing his left arm. Hisoka hissed in surprise, sliding to his knees. When he looked up half a second later, he was met with the snarling face of the second housemaid he had previously encountered. He eyed her lazily, calculating his next move.

“You know, I ran from your little gathering so I wouldn’t have to kill you.”

The woman didn’t flinch at the threat. Hisoka decided to try a different tactic.

“I really must know how you got here before me. I refuse to believe that you surpass me in speed, so I’m going to assume that you took a shortcut.”

Something flashed across her eyes, telling Hisoka that he was correct in his assumption. A shortcut. The only logical explanation was tunnels. But that still wouldn’t make sense. The hallway he had traveled through was a straight shot, meaning that her journey should’ve taken even longer than his.

“I would assume that you used a tunnel system or a secret passageway. Although, I would say that the idea of secret passages running throughout this house would make more sense than a tunnel system. I must wonder, though, how did you get here quicker than me? I had a head start and traveled a shorter distance than you.” Hisoka scanned the walls, weary of any detail he may have missed.

“Interestingly enough, these hallways actually curve,” the male voice sounded from behind him yet again. “It’s imperceptible to anyone who doesn’t know the architecture of the manor. It’s why every corridor seems to last forever, and I’d wager it’s why they beat you to this point.”

Hisoka smiled at the brilliance of his host’s estate. It truly was designed to make one lose their mind. What could he do but appreciate such fine craft? He had the time. Hisoka stood, facing the maid but keeping his back to the man behind him. It was safe to assume that the… butler? Janitor? Whoever he was, it was safe to assume that he had a knife similar to the one thrown at him. It was obvious that these opponents were trained, although it seemed to be crude and purely for functional purposes. Sure, flare didn’t get many extra points in the heat of battle, but it definitely had the potential to be intimidating to opponents who didn’t know how to counteract fancy attacks. Maybe his odds were better than he had given himself credit for.

“Now, now… I am going to ask my question one more time. I do hope you give the answer I want.”

The maid’s eyes flicked over Hisoka’s shoulder, no doubt making eye contact with the man behind him. Then she made a fatal mistake. She glanced to the side for a split second.  _ Oh dear, he did say “they” didn’t he? _ Hisoka let the smile fall from his face, knowing that as soon as he spoke, the battle would begin. No need to keep up appearances then. They would be dead soon anyways.

“Would you care to show me the exit? Or would you like to prolong my journey more than you already have?” his voice dropped, no longer carrying the little musical trill that was present almost all of the time. He was growing impatient and his injuries weren’t getting any better. He wanted this to be over as quickly as possible.

The man behind him moved first. He may have been quick, but years of honing his strength and speed allowed Hisoka to track the man’s movements, predicting his attack and compensating in turn. The butler threw his arms out, seemingly hoping to tackle Hisoka at his waist. Quick enough, Hisoka sidestepped, dodging the attack and using the man’s momentum against him. Wrapping his right hand under the man’s arm, he used his left to push the man’s head through the space he had created, forcing him to follow through the tackle. He landed on his side on the floor, Hisoka having used his momentum to spin the man into a position where he could continue gripping his arm. Hisoka stomped on the man’s head with more force than necessary, eliciting a cry of pain from the man beneath him. Pulling his arm up and over his knee, Hisoka dislocated the man’s shoulder and broke his arm. There was an audible pop and crunch, immediately followed by an even more strained yell of pain.  _ How sad. I had assumed that he would be smarter and harder to put down. Oh well. _

With one target dispatched, Hisoka was beginning to feel like himself again. The initial grogginess of waking up after being dosed with a powerful poison had faded almost completely. It felt good to fight again when he was sure that he would emerge victorious. His battle with Illumi had been upsetting. Hisoka didn’t like losing. Although, he supposed that killing a few of his captor’s employees made up for some of the damage. It was funny, really. Hisoka still wanted to fight Illumi, but he felt the urge to kill him receding. How long had it been since he had gone up against an opponent who was strong enough to defeat him? Maybe if he was lucky, he could challenge him to a duel once this whole ordeal was over with.

He threw his head backwards as a blade sliced through the air where his throat had been half a second ago.  _ Oh she is much faster than the other one. _ Maybe there was still some fun to be had. His body followed his head a moment later as the blade swung back across the way it had come, this time aiming for his stomach. Hisoka jumped backwards, using his acrobatic training to flip on his hands in order to avoid tripping over the body below him.

Now that he had put some distance between himself and the second attacker, Hisoka took a moment to reach within his pockets, hoping he hadn’t been deprived of his weapons when Illumi had taken him prisoner. He came up empty. His remaining throwing knives were missing along with his cards.  _ Damn. _ It wasn’t like he expected to not have had his weapons confiscated, but he could’ve used some luck. No matter. He would simply disarm the women and use their weapons against them.

She was quick, and it wasn’t helpful to Hisoka’s situation at all. He knew that he was slower than he cared to be right then. The grogginess may have faded, but he had still slammed his head into a metal bar and then wrestled with Illumi. He had kept going on a concussion before, but that didn’t mean it was a pleasant feeling.

The woman rushed at him. Hisoka, figuring that the best way to fight her speed was with his own, retaliated by rushing forward as well. She noticeably hesitated for a split second, dropping her guard long enough for Hisoka to grab her wrist. He twisted, hard. She gasped in pain. With his other hand, he took the knife from her contorted wrist. She kicked at him repeatedly, hitting his shin each time. Hisoka, growing annoyed, whipped his hand through the air, the knife gliding across her throat. With the woman choking on her own blood, Hisoka round kicked her into the wall.  _ Funny, I assumed she’d be the harder one. Still, two down, one to go. _

Hisoka looked around for the final maid. His gaze darted to where the other woman had looked before, but there was no one there.  _ Maybe this one will be more fun. _ Hisoka couldn’t see her, but he could still sense a presence nearby. His eyes scanned the walls around him, searching for the form of his next victim.

Turning around, Hisoka strained his vision, looking down each dark hallway, hoping to make out the outline of a person or the soft tread of footsteps. He turned a couple more times, listening intently.  _ There. _ A faint crash came from the hallway which he had initially intended to travel down.  _ So she decided to run. How cowardly. _ Nothing angered Hisoka more than cowards (and it seemed Illumi agreed, based on their earlier conversation). Those who started fights they didn’t intend to finish made him want to dig his nails into the eye sockets of whomever was nearest.

Hisoka darted down the hallway. The sound of his footsteps melted away as the entirety of his shoes weren’t hitting the floor anymore. Although he was growing tired, Hisoka pushed on, not caring about his aching limbs or bleeding cuts. He continued to follow the hallway, hoping it would bring him to the maid or the exit. He would take either at that point.

He never caught sight of the maid, but the path she had led him down suddenly became populated with doors. Hisoka glanced around, deciding on his next course of action. He thought about continuing pursuit of the maid, but decided against it. Illumi would realize he was gone at some point or another anyways.

Now, however, he faced a different battle. Any of these doors may have led to an exit, but any of these doors may also have led deeper into the manor, or more people. He would have to either choose wisely or open whichever ones he wanted and deal with the consequences of them. He decided on the second course of action, wanting to get out now more than ever.

Shirking any sense of self-preservation. Hisoka opened the closest door and barged into the room, prepared to kill anyone who may have been waiting. There wasn’t any point. The room was sparsely decorated, save for a table with a few sketches on it. Hisoka closed the door quietly and looked onwards.

The corridor sported many doors that looked nearly identical to this one. It was safe to assume that none of them led anywhere remotely helpful or interesting. It did lead Hisoka to wonder though. He didn’t have the time to search every room. Considering the speed at which the woman traveled, along with the fact that she was well versed in the layout of the house, Hisoka knew that he didn’t have much time before she brought back reinforcements.

Hesitating for a moment, Hisoka chose to continue down the path, hoping he would come to a window or a better looking door. He got his wish for the second. Hisoka spotted a double door along the wall that was much larger than the rest. He rushed forward, pulling it open. It led to another hallway that noticeably curved to the right at a harsh inclination.

Supposing it was his best bet, Hisoka took off running. His thoughts were blurring together, time as well. There wasn’t a point in staying quiet anymore when the whole house probably knew of his whereabouts. He ran at his top speed for a few minutes before he spotted another junction that led forward and to the left.  _ Finally. _

Feeling as though he was about to pass out, he rounded the corner and came to a vast entrance hall. He stopped in his tracks. The air seemed to leave the room, reminiscent of the tide receding before a tsunami. The front door was right in front of him. There were windows that showed a glimpse of the starry night sky that awaited him. But there was just one problem, one glaring issue. Standing in front of it all was a man with flowing black hair and bloodlust in his eyes.

_ Fuck. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos- they fuel us and make us wanna actually write a story worth reading


	4. The Most Fun We've Had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Machi is a sadist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the lovely comments and kudos.
> 
> We feel the need to inform you that this is more of a... let's call it "filler chapter" and therefore is shorter than usual
> 
> Also- Machi is from New York now. The accent suits her.

_ Illumi. _

He stood there, a picture of wrath. The starlight shone through the windows, illuminating his pale face and transforming him into a haunting ghost-like figure. His left hand was raised, three pins protruding from the space between his knuckles.

As someone who seemed unable to feel fear, Hisoka did a double take, his mind immediately set to plotting his next move. Illumi was still wearing the same purple outfit that he had fought in along the rooftops. The torn pant leg revealed that his injury had been stitched up since Hisoka had last seen him. There was no mistaking that he was in better shape to fight than Hisoka.

Suddenly aware of each and every weakness that he currently possessed, Hisoka made a small shift in his posture, attempting to hide the arm that hung against his side at an awkward angle. He felt a popping sensation and hoped that it hadn’t made any noise. He’d have to set his shoulder set if he made it out of there. He was suddenly conscious of the fact that his hair was stuck with blood to the side of his head that had rammed into the bars. Unfortunately, now that Hisoka was accounting for his multiple injuries, he began to realize just how tired he was.

The man’s eerily monotone voice broke the silence. “You evaded my pursuit for months which means you’re clever. You nearly bested me in battle which means you’re exceptionally strong. You stole one of my needles which means you exhibit exceptional skill in stealth. Finally, you nearly made it out of the manor from the dungeon which means your resolve is something to be reckoned with.”

Hisoka kept his lips sealed, knowing that saying the wrong thing could mean his death. It wasn’t that Hisoka feared dying. No, what he hated the thought of, was dying in such a simple and preventable way. He refused to die where no one could see him burn. Nonetheless, he knew that he would have to use his voice to get out of this predicament.

Drawing in a deep breath, he spoke. “Are you going to stand in my way, or can I finally be done with this night and leave?” Hisoka knew he probably came off as more standoffish than he would’ve preferred, but he didn’t much care at the moment.

“You pose a threat to me as well as this world we inhabit. My job is to neutralize threats when ordered and on the rare occasions when I believe it to be acceptable. So answer me this, why shouldn’t I kill you where you stand?” Illumi flicked his wrist, the three pins moving to his fingertips, ready to be thrown at a moment’s notice.

Hisoka itched for another fight. His fist curled and uncurled, grasping for a deck of cards or a knife that wasn’t there. If he wanted to, he could use the last of his stored energy and hope that he would win the battle. Only problem was that if he did that, it would mean he would be vulnerable to attacks from a third party. If he engaged him, odds are he wouldn’t last the rest of the night. Fine. Hisoka would indulge him then.

Racking his brain for anything to say, Hisoka hummed in thought. “Considering that you are the first one to have beaten me in combat for quite some time, I must say that I’m quite tempted by the thought of fighting you again.”

“Are you sure that is a wise thing to do in your current state?”

“Didn’t know you cared if it was a fair fight~” Hisoka mused, regaining some of his playful demeanor.

Hisoka could’ve sworn something flickered across the man’s face, but he reduced it to a trick of the light. Then, he got an idea.

“Tell me, Illumi, when was the last time you’ve had this much fun?” He sported his signature cat-like grin, hoping to play off more confidence than he currently possessed.

Illumi didn’t answer him at first, instead choosing to concentrate on Hisoka. He was probably looking for any weapons or changes in his body language. Evidently he didn’t find anything as he drew in a breath and decided to speak.

“How do you mean?” he tilted his head in confusion, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Hisoka grinned with as much malice as he could muster. “What I mean, is how long has it been since you’ve had to actually fight someone like this?” Hisoka threw his left arm up in the air, spinning around to add a bit of flourish. “How long has it been since you’ve met someone as  _ powerful~  _ as yourself?”

Illumi’s mouth worked itself into a thin line. He didn’t say a word. You couldn’t tell he was breathing. One might have assumed he was a statue positioned at the entryway to scare off visitors. Had Hisoka done it? Had he struck a nerve?  _ Oh this could be interesting. _

Hisoka risked moving forward an inch.

Illumi made no move to stop him.

Hisoka took a full step forward. When Illumi again refused to move, Hisoka continued walking. He made it to the door. Illumi hadn’t moved an inch since Hisoka had spoken, and it looked like he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Hisoka finally released a breath that he had been letting out little by little. He placed a hand on the giant door, pausing to make sure no attack was coming from behind him. Instead, he was met with a chilling whisper.

“I will kill you…” He said it so quietly that it could’ve been mistaken for the breeze.

“Then we shall make it a game.” Hisoka spoke gravely. He knew that with those words, he was sealing away any chance of ridding his life of the man behind him. In all honesty, he was fine with that. It wasn’t often that he met someone truly worth the effort of killing.

Hisoka pushed open the heavy wooden door, letting the full light of the stars wash over them. He turned back one final time, sporting his signature smirk and locking eyes with the assassin who had finally turned his head. “Last one to die wins.”

  
  


....

  
  


The bell above the door rang, alerting Machi to a new presence in her workshop.

“We’re closed,” she stated firmly, hoping to be rid of people after a long day.

“You sure you can’t take any last minute customers?” a male voice rang out.

When Machi looked up to address the man, she had nearly pulled the gun she kept under the counter and shot the sorry sight before her. Hisoka seemed a dead man walking. His red hair, usually floppy, was crusted to the side of his head with dried blood. His arm hung limply at his right ride. His suit was in tatters and he looked paler than usual.

“You look like shit,” Machi commented once she had finished her double take. “What the hell happened?”

Hisoka sighed, brushing the hair from his eyes. “I met someone  _ breathtaking _ .” If there were a couch near him, Machi was pretty sure that he would’ve swooned into it just to play up the joke. Hisoka was the kind to be overly dramatic even while bleeding out to a slow death.

“They must've been pretty damn breathtaking, because from the looks of you, they might have collapsed one of your lungs,” Machi said while eyeing his numerous injuries.

“You know, out of all the dames I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, I think you have the worst mouth of them all~” Hisoka borderline flirted.

“Don’t call me that.” Machi was pretty sure that her eye roll was audible. She rested both arms on the counter, leaning forward. “Now, what can I do for you so you might leave my shop sooner?”

“You wound me, my dear Machi,” Hisoka said with a pout.

Machi huffed and then reached under the counter for her key to the building. She had hoped to close up early, but not like this. Storming out from around the counter, she trudged past Hisoka, knocking his right arm out of her way. She was rewarded with a cut-off grunt of pain from him. It gave her a small bit of joy.

“You know the drill.” Machi waved a hand over her shoulder, vaguely gesturing at the door behind the counter that led into the back room. She didn’t turn to face the man as he hummed a note of satisfaction. Engaging him was never a good plan.

Flipping the open sign to show her shop was closed, Machi flicked off the switch to the main lights in her shop, making sure no one else would think it proper to drop in while she went about her business. It wasn’t like someone from the area would be stupid enough to try breaking in, but it was always better to use caution in case someone new thought they might test their luck against the seamstress. Just because she had been trained as a nurse didn’t mean she was opposed to killing. People always seemed to forget that, much to her disappointment.

Taking a deep breath to ready herself for dealing with the idiotic clown who had stumbled into her shop, Machi turned and retreated across the carpeted floor. There were other matters she would have to attend to in order to officially close up, but she didn’t want Hisoka getting blood everywhere, and so he took priority.

Machi shoved the door open with more force than was probably necessary. The result was a bang as the door hit the wall it swung against. Hisoka looked up, seemingly unsurprised or undisturbed. His eyes were calculating. Machi never liked that about him. Hisoka always looked like he was planning your funeral or the way in which you’d end up in a coffin in the first place. Whenever his eyes were upon you, no matter how strong you were, you knew that in that moment you were no more than prey to him. It chilled her to the bone.

Hisoka sat upon the table, having taken his shirt off, exposing some painful-looking bruises and scrapes as well as a gruesome-looking slice along his side. There were two areas adorned with spots of crusted blood on his neck, similar to those of injection sites. His right cheek was decorated with a cut and bruise that most definitely came from a left hook punch. His right arm hung down lower than it was supposed to, a dark bruise formed near his joint. And then there was the head wound. That one seemed the most serious. Machi decided it was the one she would attend to first. Hisoka seemed to disagree with her appraisal because he spoke as she turned around to get medical supplies.

“I would rather you set my joint first.”

“Why should I listen to you? From what I remember, there’s only one of us in this room with medical training and I'm pretty damn sure it isn't you.”

“My head’s fuzzy and it dulls the pain of fixing this,” he whined as he gestured to his dislocated shoulder.

“Since when did you care about pain?” Machi raised an eyebrow. He didn’t normally show that much regard for his injuries.

“Mmm forget it.” Hisoka looked down at his fingers. He started picking at the dried blood from around his nails, seemingly forgetting about everything he had previously complained about. That was another thing that bothered Machi about him. The man seemed to change moods on a whim. Eventually, she learned it was better not to question him about it. He was such a fickle man.

Machi shook off the exchange and got back to obtaining her medical supplies. Unfortunately, since her day had been so busy, Machi had barely had time to tidy up the back room which meant that thread and various sewing supplies were strewn about the shelves in a haphazard manner.

As she searched for her medical supplies amidst the chaos, Machi took a couple seconds to straighten anything she could while keeping the time she wasted to a minimum. Finally, after moving a box filled with an assortment of colorful yarns, she came to a metal box with the Caduceus engraved into the lid. She had stolen a few of them from a hospital years back when she was actually intending to become a nurse. When she needed refills, she simply stole more. Proper medical supplies weren’t exactly cheap and neither was running a business. She could afford only one, and she chose to focus on the one that she actually cared about.

Machi walked back to the table. At this point, Hisoka had stretched himself out like a cat, seemingly unafraid of making himself comfortable. Machi sighed in frustration.

“Sit up, I’m dressing your head,” she ordered.

He let out a soft grumble as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the table. Machi nearly had to dodge back to avoid the gangly limbs that came careening in her direction. Hisoka bent his knees at the last second, probably hoping to avoid the wrath of the seamstress standing before him by not kicking her.

Once he was sitting up, Hisoka turned his head slightly to the left, granting Machi access to the open wound on the side of his head. She stepped forward, setting the open medical kit on the table in front of her. The blood that he had lost was already dried and crusted into his hair. She would definitely have to clean the injury first. Turning to walk over to the sink in the corner, Machi spoke.

“So how did you even get in this state? You didn’t answer before.”

“I told you, I met someone,” Hisoka hummed.

“Bullshit. What happened?” Machi snipped.

“Don’t you have a ‘no questions asked’ policy?”

“That's only for people who’ve actually paid their dues. From what I remember, you still haven’t paid me for the previous time  _ or  _ this one, so I think I have the right to ask you a couple questions.”

Hisoka took a moment before answering. “The head is from getting smacked against a cell door, the shoulder is from breaking out of said cell, and the others are from fighting my way out of the situation that got me into that whole mess.”

“Sounds like quite the lovely night.”

“You haven’t even heard the half of it, babe” he dismissed flippantly.

She walked back over, damp towel in her hands and began to work on cleaning the blood out of his hair and skin. “So are you planning on  _ exacting your revenge _ any time soon?”

“To be frank, my dear Machi, I don’t believe I’d ever agree on returning to that hellhole, even with a written invitation.”

“Don’t blame ya, I haven’t seen you this torn up for a good while now.”

“Yes well, I haven’t fought someone with such skill as that  _ Illumi _ fellow in quite some time.” His voice changed when he spoke the name, almost like he was considering what to order off of a menu (Machi only knew that because she had unfortunately agreed to dinner with him on a couple occasions).

“Illumi?” Machi questioned while racking her brain. “You mean the Zoldyck kid?”

Hisoka hummed in thought before answering. “I do believe the staff said that was the name.”

“You mean to tell me that you went toe to toe with a Zoldyck?”

“That is the general idea I’m hinting at, yes-”

Machi resisted the urge to slap him. “What the  _ fuck  _ were you thinking?! They could’ve killed you!”

“Didn’t know you cared~” he purred in response, which in turn made Machi grimace.

“Believe me, I don’t. In fact, ignore my warnings and  _ please  _ go barging into danger again and get killed.” She punctuated her statement by slapping his head with the wet towel.

“What’s with all the violence?” Hisoka whined.

“That’s for messing with one of the most dangerous families in the city, and probably the world-” She punched him on his dislocated shoulder, earning a sharp cry which he attempted to cut off- “and  _ that... _ is just because I felt like it.” She could feel herself smirking at his discomfort.

Machi threw the bloodied towel down on the table and waited for Hisoka to stop mock cowering away from her. Picking up the disinfectant from the box, she got to work. Hisoka never flinched at the sting. After she had finished cleaning the wound, Machi picked up a roll of bandages from the box. She then used her free hand to tug Hisoka back her way so she could finish dealing with his head. She took a while bandaging him up. He hummed an annoying tune while she worked. Several times Machi snapped at him to shut up, but to no avail.

Finally she finished wrapping the top and side of his head with the bandages. “Alright, there’s yer head, that’ll be fifty clams.”

“Fifty? For  _ only _ my head?” Hisoka genuinely sounded surprised.

“Ah, ah, ah- this is for last time as well. I haven’t even set your joint yet or cleaned your other cuts, so ya best come up with the money- and ya best make it snappy.”

“Do I look like I have the money on me, tutz?” he drawled and tutted, making fun of her heavy New Yorker accent. He waved his hand as if clearing the mannerism away from his mind. “Look, I get paid soon, you’ll get your money then.”

Machi frowned, frustrated with the man before her. Had he no respect for her time? It’s not like she did this for charity.

“Fine,” she clipped. “That means you don’t get any pills then.”

“Pills? What do you-”

Quick as ever, Machi threw out her hands, taking Hisoka’s arm and holding it out and up at an angle. With a pop, she shoved his arm back into his shoulder socket before dropping the limb and backing away a few steps. Hisoka gasped and hissed in pain. Had it not been for the fear that he may actually vault off the table to strangle her, Machi would’ve commented on how horrible his pain tolerance had been that evening. Then he did something that Machi should’ve expected, but didn’t. He started laughing.

“Oh you slay me, dearest Machi,” he huffed out.

Machi hoped that she was keeping the confusion off of her face.

“You know, I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to set a joint,” he said once his laughter had died down. “I didn’t realize you were in the business of malpractice.”

“I am when I don’t get paid,” she countered.

He gritted his teeth while brushing off her jibe. “I’m regretting not paying you now. Painkillers would be appreciated right about this second.”

“I told you, no pay, no special treatment.”

“Alright then, how about a deal then? Concerning payment, I mean.” Hisoka broke out into a smile that was reserved for scheming. It made Machi anxious, his schemes usually were concocted to be of benefit only to himself. A faint memory called to her, seeing that smile and remembering the massacre Hisoka had left in his wake when he took out a small gang on the west side of town. Nonetheless, she decided to humor him.

“What are ya thinkin’?” she asked, genuinely curious while also being concerned.

“Mmm, I’m thinking I’ll pay extra for some information…” he hummed, seeming to try and be mysterious.

“You’re already paying extra, but go on.”

Hisoka made a face of distaste at her comment before continuing, “You seem to know things about Illumi… What did you call him? Zoldyck?”

“It’s Zoldyck,” she confirmed for him before he continued.

“ _ Illumi Zoldyck _ ,” he affirmed. “I want to know everything you can tell me about that man.”

“That so?” Machi asked in an incredulous tone.

Hisoka simply hummed a response, telling her that he was completely serious about the proposed deal. It was interesting. Hisoka almost never came to her for information, instead choosing to use his many  _ secretive _ resources. She never knew where he got his info, but he did somehow, and it was almost always scarily accurate.

“Well then, allow me to be of assistance.”

Machi turned her attention back to her medical kit so she could finish tending to his injuries while she talked.

_ Hey, if it gets me a little extra cash, what’s the harm in it? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> $50 in 1920 is pretty much the equivalent of about $800 today
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are deeply appreciated by the both of us


	5. Perhaps it was a Mistake, a Written Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two dark brooding idiots can’t stop thinking about each other (WARNING: JoJo Reference)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We had a good laugh writing in the reference- it used to be VERY obvious but we toned it down don't worry

**_Yesterday_ **

He had made a mistake. There was no question about it. That man had killed so many of his targets, caused so many headaches for the family, and Illumi had let. Him. Go.  _ What was I thinking? I endangered our family and cost us security. _ It wasn’t that the manor wasn’t secure in the first place, no. The Head of Security, the butlers, and all the house staff took care of security needs. Never was a Zoldyck needed to fight off an intruder before now. Then again, no intruder had ever slaughtered everyone in their path until now. What. Had. He. Done?

It had been two days since he had let Hisoka escape the manor. Maybe not “let.” Sure, Illumi hadn’t exactly done anything to  _ stop _ the man from exiting, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t… No, wait- that’s exactly what he had done.

Illumi put his head in his hands, massaging his temples in an attempt to rid himself of the stress headache he had been enduring for two days. As always, he was not successful in his endeavors. He doubted it would go away until he knew what would become of the killer now that he had ensured his freedom.

He kept circling back to that thought. Perhaps it was obsessive, but what else could Illumi be when he was bordering on frantic worry about his family. Killua was skilled, but he was not yet strong enough to take on that opponent and survive. For that matter, neither was Kalluto, or Milluki, and most  _ definitely _ not Alluka. Grandfather and father could most definitely defeat him, but would they even interfere? This was a problem that Illumi had brought upon himself and their family, it was doubtful they would help him pick up his own mess.  _ They’d help Killua, _ Illumi thought snidely before catching himself. Those kinds of thoughts wouldn’t help him now. He was only lashing out due to his frustration.

_ Good assassins are composed, calm, collected. _ Illumi took a deep breath and pressed his palms into his eyes hard enough to see stars. After a few seconds of that, he sat up straight on the bed where he had been previously hunched over. Running his fingers back through his hair, Illumi let his eyes readjust to the room’s dim lighting. Illumi quite liked the dark. It was comforting, in a way. It was easy to melt into it, become a shadow where nothing and no one could reach you. Idly, he wondered if dying would be as easy as slipping into the shadows he so regularly inhabited.

_ Perhaps that would be easier than facing Hisoka. _ He may die anyways, wouldn’t it be better to have his life in his own hands rather than the other man?

_ I must stop thinking like this. _

Illumi stood, his eyes traveling to a playing card he had pinned to the wall of his room. Inspiration to track down and kill his enemy was something Illumi could’ve used right about then. Perhaps that’s what the card was, an extra incentive. Would his headache finally go away when he embedded his pins into Hisoka’s eyes? His heart? Would his suffering finally cease when the red haired man became a walking pincushion before his last threads of life were cut by the blades he had cast? Illumi could feel himself smiling, fantasizing about each and every way he could drain the life out of those golden cat eyes that seemed to carry too many secrets to be considered safe.

Leaning over, Illumi picked up a twisted and crooked pin that he had embedded into the wood of his dresser. There wasn’t really a reason to have kept it, but after the fight in which it had been damaged, Illumi didn’t see why he couldn’t collect his own souvenir. His mind traveled back to the day when he had been tasked with taking out some clumsy mob boss with his own personal militia. One of the grunts had shot at Illumi in the same moment he had thrown the pin, resulting in the warped metal weapon. Needless to say, Illumi slaughtered them all quickly, but he kept the pin as a small reminder of that job. He had been… maybe fifteen? Still growing into his abilities.

Whirling around with a practiced grace, Illumi sent the pin whistling through the air with more force than usual. The twisted metal landed right between the eyes of the jester figure pictured on the playing card. Illumi smirked, satisfied that he could still throw with perfected aim even while brandishing a less-than-ideal and nearly broken weapon.

Illumi stretched out his arms, examining his mark out of the corner of his eye. He barely stopped himself from sneering as he pictured the teasing and malicious grin that Hisoka seemed to constantly sport. It was all he could picture when he closed his eyes. It was almost as though the man’s face was mocking him just by existing.

Shaking himself out, Illumi turned towards the door.  _ Perhaps training would clear my head. _ There was nothing that a little practice couldn’t clear up. Who knew? Maybe Killua and Kalluto would even be willing to spar.

  
  


…

  
  


**_This Morning_ **

Hisoka reached to his left, grasping for his mug of coffee that was sitting on the end table. He recoiled (with an added hiss and expletive) when the tips of his fingers touched the scalding ceramic, burning his hand and turning his skin a little pink. He shook his hand out, willing his nerves to quiet down.

Turning back to the book in his lap, Hisoka attempted to read the same page he had been staring at for the past 10 minutes. His gaze flitted over the text, his brain refusing to process any of the words printed on the paper. His eyes swam with the inky writing. Out of frustration, Hisoka slammed the book shut and flung it down onto the coffee table on which there was already a sizable stack of reading material. Shifting in his seat, Hisoka turned himself so he could stretch both legs out and drape himself across the couch. He sighed contentedly as he felt a few bones pop and his body settle into the new position.

Even though he did his best to relax, Hisoka couldn’t help but keep some tension in his body. Machi had diagnosed him with a mild concussion and told him that he shouldn’t be straining himself for about a week. She had also told him that his shoulder would take at least two weeks to even somewhat heal. That wasn’t even counting the multiple bruises and cuts that adorned his body currently. At least those would heal up quickly. Hisoka gritted his teeth, displeased with his current state of being. He hated being weak. He hated that he was reduced to hiding out in his home like some…

“ _ Coward.” _ The word tasted like poison on his tongue. He knew there wasn’t a point in speaking it aloud, but it gave the word more weight when he spat it as he would in an enemy’s face.

Hisoka sighed, releasing what tension he could within his shoulders. He steadied himself, placing a hand over his eyes to block out the tinted sunlight filtering through the wine-colored curtains. He had to admit, the ambience that his choice of decor created was… almost  _ cozy _ in a sense. It didn’t exactly fit the personality he presented to others, but that was their problem, not his.

The clock he kept on the wall chimed, alerting him to the fact that he had spent nearly half the day reading about various poisons (he wanted to figure out what exactly Illumi had dosed him with) all while lounging about on the couch. Really, Hisoka just wanted the day to end already. At least then he could move on and heal so he could get back to his important job of making a living. His eyes slid over to the hallway that would lead him to his bedroom. It was too early to fall asleep, and even then, his body refused to sleep longer than in five hour increments, so it wouldn’t make much of a difference.

The corners of his mouth played upwards, hinting at a smile, as Hisoka thought about what sort of tea he would drink tonight before bed. Hisoka always found delight in thinking about the more mundane aspects of his day. When he wasn’t murdering, he took interest in seeing how people lived their so called “quiet lives.” He couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at that thought. It was funny how some seemed to be born only to be destined to endure such an unfulfilling existence. Hisoka most definitely wasn’t one of them. He could never see any sort of domesticity in the cards for him. That thought didn’t make him sad, though. Everyone found purpose in something, for him it just happened to be gruesomely murdering people and working in The Dark Sparrow.

Hisoka removed his hand from his face, lifting it up so it became a silhouette against the sunlight. He stared at his hand, tracing the creases with his gaze and memorizing the outline. As he stared at his palm, Hisoka let his mind slowly wander back to the pressing issue of  _ Illumi.  _ They were essentially the same shade, perhaps cut from a similar cloth. Each found themselves in almost the same profession, yet each for different purposes and reasons. While Illumi killed for a livelihood, Hisoka slaughtered to chase a battle or opponent that would finally match him in strength and wit, hoping one day that one of his victims might fight back or point him in the direction of someone who could and was worth the time. It was funny, how things so similar could also be so different.  _ Then again _ \- Hisoka turned his hand over to examine the back of it-  _ maybe we aren’t  _ too  _ different. _

Perhaps it was true that Illumi killed for money- Machi had told him as much- but as he ran and fought along those rooftops, Hisoka couldn’t have helped but to feel like there was something beneath the hard exterior of his pursuer. If he dug through the cracks in that calm facade, what would he find? Part of him hoped it would be another monster such as himself, but another part told him to fear the creature that was trapped beneath the ceramic surface. Hisoka couldn’t help but grin at that. He wasn’t one to listen to fear much. If there was a risk in releasing the horror beneath Illumi’s skin, then he would gladly take it. Who cared who died in the process anyways. That monster was definitely someone worth fighting.

  
  


…

  
  


**_Yesterday Evening_ **

A loud crack rang throughout the hall as the wooden arm on the training dummy shattered upon the impact of Illumi’s final blow. The sound was then followed by a few smaller banging sounds as the wooden piece clattered across the floor until a column stopped its movement altogether.

Illumi could feel his pulse in his fingertips, his blood pumping through his veins, his heartbeat in his head. Sweat glistened and covered every inch of his porcelain skin. Long having learned to control his breathing in a fight, Illumi took a few deep breaths to steady the small bit of lung control he had lost. It had been a long time since he had let himself go all out while training. He hadn’t let his breath slip like that in ages, he hadn’t broken a dummy for even longer.

_ Maybe a little too long. _ Illumi looked around at the wreckage he had caused. Multiple wooden training dummies were scattered around the hall, knocked over. Numerous paper targets had pins in the eyes, throat, or heart. He felt himself lighten, taking in the damage and assuring himself that he was indeed an unstoppable force that could easily take down a room full of people.  _ Although maybe this isn’t the best judge- the targets weren’t exactly moving. _ Nonetheless, there was a certain amount of release one could achieve in absolutely decimating a room full of (make-believe) targets.

There’s a lovely window of time in between the moment you stop fighting and the moment you begin to feel your body again where all you can experience is the adrenaline coursing through your body and fading out as you come to realize the battle is finished. It can last anywhere between three breaths to a couple hours. Illumi could feel the window closing. His muscles began to ache, having been strained by the repetitive motions of a kata Illumi had taken and changed in order to fit his choice of weapon. Recreating the same graceful stances and harsh postures for such a long time was enough to make anyone’s entire body strained.

Slowly, Illumi turned around and walked towards the far wall. The house staff would take care of the mess he had left, it would be fine. Once he had reached the wooden bench, Illumi sat down, picking up a towel from the stack to his left. Carefully, he dried the sweat from his skin, peeling off the green vest that sat on top of his maroon undershirt. Illumi threaded the towel beneath his hair, exposing the back of his neck to the air. It wasn’t quite cool enough to be completely comfortable, but Illumi wasn’t about to complain.

_ Someone is here _ . Illumi’s head snapped up, eyes scanning the room for the presence he had sensed. His eyes, well adjusted to the gloom by now, couldn’t make out any shapes hiding within the shadows. Illumi moved his gaze further up, scanning along the pathway that overlooked the training hall.  _ There. _

His eyes met Kalluto’s bright gaze, looking down on Illumi from the guard rail. His little brother turned away, walking towards the stairs that led down onto the training floor. Illumi sat, waiting for Kalluto to make his way over. Illumi watched him, letting some softness into his face (it was a little hard after training so hard, but he managed). Kalluto gave him a small smile in return. The Zoldycks weren’t exactly known for being the most cheery bunch of assassins, but Illumi didn’t see the harm in greeting his brothers in that fashion.

Once Kalluto was standing in front of Illumi, he tipped his head the slightest bit- that it might’ve been imperceptible to a normal person- in greeting. Illumi followed suit.

“Grandfather had me deliver a letter last night,” Kalluto stated.

“Is that so?” Illumi questioned in return.

Kalluto nodded, confirming what he had said. “I didn’t know its contents, but Grandfather told me that we should prepare for company a week from tonight.”

Illumi didn’t respond then, instead lost in the slightest bit of confusion. No one ever just  _ visited _ the Zoldyck manor unless they were a new staff member or an extremely important client. The question was which would it be?

“Did he give any hint as to the nature of our  _ guest _ ?”

Kalluto seemed to share the same thought process as Illumi, shown by his eyes seeming to race through a couple possible responses before continuing.

“All he told me was that we may have a new business partner, and that we should dress nicely for dinner.”

“I see.” Illumi stood and turned to look out at the training hall again, eyes continuing to appraise the damage.

Kalluto followed his gaze and looked around at the mess as well. “Will you teach me that kata?” Illumi’s little brother looked up at him.

Illumi nodded, remembering how Kalluto had asked the same thing so long ago when he had seen Illumi experimenting with an iron fan. Of course now his little brother had taken that weapon and made it his own. He did show true promise as an assassin. “Tomorrow.”

  
  


…

  
  


**_This afternoon_ **

Hisoka pushed off from the kitchen counter he was leaning against, setting aside the same book he was reading earlier on different plants with poisonous properties. A loud thwap at the door alerted him to the newspaper. The newsboy who ran the small neighborhood he lived in never had a set time for his delivery services. Most days he came by in the afternoons, but it was never at the same exact time. Hisoka supposed he should be somewhat grateful for the services, however. Hisoka gave him a bit of extra spending money, and in return, the newsboy gave him the paper and promised not to let anyone know where he lived. It was a mutually beneficial setup.

The newspaper was always a good way to select a new target or to make sure his previous one didn’t keep alive by some miracle. He almost never had to worry about his victims living on. He did his job quickly and he did it well.  _ Well, most of the time. _

As he trekked across the house to reach the front door, Hisoka couldn’t help but remember back to a time where he had somehow failed to completely kill his victim. It had been some doctor who had been killing his patients. Hisoka only decided to off him because he had hoped that the man would put up a fight or give some insight about different weaponized medical supplies. In the end, Hisoka had left him bleeding out on the floor, counting on the fact that he was the only one left in the building. He was wrong, of course. Some nurse or other doctor patched him up. It didn’t matter, though. The minute Hisoka had heard the man was still alive and was recovering, he had snuck back in and slaughtered him in his sleep. He couldn’t have allowed anyone to know his identity, now could he?

He reached the front door, shaking his head out just a little to rid himself of the memory. It wasn’t one of his fondest memories. Failure was never something Hisoka smiled upon, even if the mistake was rectified later on. Failure was, and always would be, failure.  _ Best not to let myself dwell on those thoughts. They only slow me down, after all. _

Twisting the door knob, Hisoka peeked his head out, watching the newsboy’s bicycle ride off down the street and scouting for other neighbors who might be watching. When he was satisfied there was no one around to see his face, Hisoka opened the door completely, stepping out onto the front porch. The street seemed quiet today. Though Hisoka thrived off of chaos, even he admitted it was nice to have a reprieve from the screaming, killing, smoke, and people that seemed to define his life.

Hisoka looked down to where the paper lay on the wooden deck, hoping to catch a glimpse of an interesting headline. Much to his dismay, the front page didn’t hold anything about the businessman he had killed before Illumi. Hisoka always found some sense of satisfaction in himself when he managed to murder a high profile victim. He had a collection of newspapers that had his victims making the front page.

He picked up the paper, idly scanning the words without actually taking any of them to mind. Hisoka froze. He moved the paper out of his line of sight and looked back down at the deck. Sitting there was an ornate envelope with inky, flowing writing addressed to “The man who plays cards.” Hisoka bent down to snatch it off the floor, turning it over and over in an attempt to find a return address. He was met only with a wax seal embellished by a stamp that held the image of a dragon.

Looking around quickly for anyone who might’ve left the letter, Hisoka backed into the house. Once he was past the entryway, Hisoka slammed the front door closed, dropped the newspaper and turned over the envelope to continue examining it for any signs it could hold a weapon or trap. Satisfied that it seemed normal, Hisoka broke the wax seal with his sharper than normal nails.

Hisoka slid out the once-folded paper inside. It was decorated with the same flowy penmanship as the address on the envelope. Hisoka read the words on the paper carefully. He read them again. He read them again. He spoke them out loud for good measure to make sure he wasn’t going crazy.

“You are cordially invited to dinner at the Zoldyck manor on Friday a week from now. Dress nicely.”

He flipped it over, making sure he didn’t miss any writing on either side of it. Hisoka gripped the paper tightly, wrinkling the edges.

_ Dinner with Illumi. Now what could this be about…? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are deeply appreciated by the both of us.


	6. Meet the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gentlemen, here, have a scrap of sexual tension. This is the only meal you're gonna get for a while so you better savor it. Have fun with this slow-burn :)

Hisoka glanced down at the paper and then up at the metal gates that seemed almost gothic in nature. The sight was more ominous than he remembered it to be.  _ Wonderful sight, now how the hell do I get in?  _ The last thing Hisoka expected to happen was to be invited back to the house of the family that had tried to kill him, but Hisoka knew he couldn’t pass this opportunity up. Oh how interesting it would be to see Illumi in a normal setting. Illumi captivated Hisoka in a way that no one else had, and he was dying to see how his blank face would react to him actually showing up. Maybe he’d even frown.

He had dressed in his nicest, most expensive suit; the one that he performed in. Although Hisoka did not care to wear it often, he felt the need to make a good impression for himself in front of the head of the Zoldyck family. From what Machi told him, it was best to get on their good side. He patted down his suit, feeling the velvety texture of his blood-red jacket and making sure his attire was in order.

Keeping his head bent over the invitation, Hisoka lifted his gaze back to the front gate. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man in a uniform similar to the maids he had encountered in the house, only the man’s outfit looked far more tasteful.

“Excuse me,” Hisoka turned his head toward the man. “Would you please be so kind as to open the gate for me? I have an appointment with the Zoldycks that I very much would not like to be late to.”

The man seemed to size him up, allowing Hisoka to do the same. He was older, that was for sure. Hisoka could definitely win in a fight against him, it wasn’t even a question. Hisoka was snapped out of his thoughts by the guard piping up.

“Hmm. You don't look to be the sort of people that the Zoldycks associate with. I’m going to need some form of identification, please.”

Hisoka held out the invitation that he had received, putting on a fake smile in hopes that it would add to his charismatic charm. The guard watched him while slowly extending an arm to take the paper.

The guard looked at it and studied it intently. “The thing is, I have no way of knowing if you forged this or not. There isn’t even a name on it.”

“Oh right!” Hisoka kept up his forced smile as he dug the envelope from the inside of his jacket. Once he felt the paper within his grasp, he pulled it from his pocket and handed it over. Once the man took it, Hisoka pointed to the name printed on the front. “If you’ll see here, it’s addressed to ‘The Man Who Plays Cards.’ That’s me!” He forced his grin even wider, hoping to sell it.

“As I said, you could’ve easily forged this.” The guard stood his ground.

“How could I have possibly forged such intricate handwriting? What you’re saying makes no sense!” Hisoka was getting uneasy and losing his patience. If he knew he was going to have to deal with this  _ annoyance, _ he would have come an hour in advance. Either way, it was too late now.

“Beats me. You’re the one who forged it.” The old man shrugged with his statement.

“Look, I didn’t forge it. I really do have an appointment with the Zoldycks which I actually bothered to show up on time for. Now are you going to let me in or not?” Hisoka asked while pinching the bridge of his nose.  _ Don’t kill him. Don’t kill him. They will get mad if you kill him. Don’t kill him. _

Hisoka took a deep breath as his eyes slowly panned away from the old guard back to the tall gate. He was saving this plan as a last resort, but the man in front of him wasn’t seeming to want to let him pass.

“I guess I’ll see you later. Until then, a parting gift.” He turned to the old man in front of him and raised up his middle finger. In an instant he jumped onto two bars of the gate closest to him and began climbing up it. Once he reached the top he crouched into a squat stance and turned back to the old guard to catch a glimpse of his reaction. All the man did was chuckle. Angered slightly by his lackluster reaction, Hisoka decided to give the guard a show. 

Hisoka found his balance and stood up on the gate, it looked unfeasible and felt death-defying. One wrong move and he could be skewered by the twisted black metal. It wasn’t like he hadn’t faced dangerous odds in performance before. He was used to it by now. Hisoka paused for a few seconds before flipping off of the gate over to the other side. This time, he did not turn back, he would not give the guard satisfaction, but he could hear the guard continue to chuckle, “stupid grunt.” Hisoka muttered under his breath. 

In the distance he could see the manor, it seemed surprisingly farther from the gate than he remembered, but no matter, he would make it there in all of 60 seconds. He began to walk over along the juxtaposed dirt path leading up to the mansion, watching his step for any roots from the surrounding forest. It really was a quite beautiful piece of land. Must’ve cost a fortune to keep up or even buy in the first place. The whole property was a forest with a manor for god’s sake.

There was a noise akin to a deep rumble. Hisoka paused, sweeping his gaze from side to side, looking for the source. The noise sounded again. This time Hisoka realized the nature of the noise, a quiet low growl. He looked around a bit more frantically. Was it a fox? No, foxes never made such deep sounding noises. He turned his head forward, choosing to focus on his destination and continue walking. It didn’t matter, all that he cared about was getting to that dinner, and seeing the man who seemed to live at the front of his mind in front of him again. Was he obsessed? Possibly.

Hisoka was brought out of his thoughts by another harsh growl, only this time it was notably louder than the first couple. Hisoka paused again, looking around at his surroundings, trying to find the sound's location yet again. His eyes met yellow ones, growing larger at an alarming pace. Using his sight to investigate further, Hisoka made out the form of a big gray wolf bolting toward him from the house. This moment in time, struck Hisoka as a memorable one. The man prided himself on being prepared for any plans he would see through. Even if he didn’t have a plan, he was remarkably good at thinking up a new plan on the spot. Moments like these, however, humbled Hisoka, for he had never prepared for a guard wolf bolting towards him at 30 miles per hour. Who would?

Perhaps some ancient instinct kicked in, but Hisoka, not knowing what else to do, started running back towards the gate as fast as he could, his heart beating so hard that he felt it almost jump out of his skin. The wolf was gaining on him slowly, until he could hear its footsteps around 10 feet behind him. Out of nowhere he felt a second-wind of energy coming about him. He was not prepared to die today, especially not at the hands of a furball.

Hisoka finally made it to the gate. Leaping the last bit of distance, he grabbed the iron posts and kicked off of the dirt. After doing a short flip void of any theatrics, he was able to hop up on top of the gate, clinging to the bars for dear life. The wolf crashed against the metal gate, having finally caught up to him. The gates rattled with the force of the impact creating an awful shrieking noise that made Hisoka cover one ear while still clinging on for dear life. The creature jumped, trying in vain to reach the man perched on top. On one especially high jump, the wolf nearly caught a hold of Hisoka’s shoe.

“Get away from me! You dry-nosed brute!” Hisoka screamed at the wolf.

Hisoka heard chuckling again, but this time it sounded different, it sounded… more subdued… more familiar.

With a rustle of leaves and a snap of twigs, Illumi appeared, dropping down from a tree nearby. The man seemed to be making an attempt at holding back his laughter. He was unsuccessful, as was marked by the stifled chuckles Hisoka was hearing. The Zoldyck, now swathed in a green similar to that of the lush forest, slowly made his way towards the gate, seemingly unafraid of the bloodthirsty wolf.

Hisoka, turning his attention back to the problem at hand, debated taking out a knife to throw at the wolf. However, taking a moment to examine the speed and inconsistency of its movements, he thought better of it. There was no way he could get a clean shot. He wasn’t exactly used to battling _ wolves _ . The things moved too much. Humans were so much simpler. You could easily predict their thoughts and movements. Animals in general were so much more… unpredictable.

The beast started to slow down, content to sit at the base of the gate and growl at the man crouched on top of the iron. In turn, Hisoka began to debate throwing that knife. He slowly began to reach inside his jacket pocket (as not to disturb the creature) when Illumi spoke.

“Mike, at ease,” his light and yet monotone voice rang out.

The wolf instantly relaxed, turning to retreat back the way it came, though not before sparing a glare (he didn’t know wolves could glare) in Hisoka’s direction. Illumi stopped walking when he reached about fifteen feet away from the gate. The furball sat down beside him, his tail wagging slightly as he panted and watched his master. Illumi reached down to scratch the wolf’s ears and chin. Though his eyes weren’t trained on Hisoka, he could still feel Illumi’s weighted gaze watching his every movement.

Patting and pushing the side of the beast’s head, Illumi sent the mongrel on its way back to the manor. His eyes lifted to Hisoka’s position, his face returning to his seemingly signature blank stare. Hisoka didn’t dare move from his position atop the gate. He didn’t doubt that Illumi would call the creature back the moment his shoes hit the dirt path.

“You’re going to be late for dinner if you stay up there much longer,” Illumi pointed out. “Grandfather hates his hospitality being met with disrespect.”

There was something Hisoka didn’t quite like about the way Illumi said that last part, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Deciding that maybe he wouldn’t be attacked after all, Hisoka reluctantly climbed down from the gate as elegantly as he could. Dusting off his suit, he spoke, meaning to comment on the lovely weather or something neutral they could converse about.

“You have a wolf,” he stated.  _ Motherfucker. _ That wasn’t what he meant to say. “Why do you have a guard wolf?!.” He couldn’t stop himself from saying stupid shit, could he? _ Why? _ Such was his lot in life.

Thankfully for him, Illumi seemed to take it in stride.

“Mike is one of our guard  _ dogs _ . We found a bunch of strays on the property when the manor was being built up so we trained them,” Illumi stated in a nonchalant manner.

Hisoka could barely stop himself from gaping in disbelief at the man before him.

“You have MORE wolves?”

“They’re dogs, Hisoka.”

“Those are wolves, Illumi.  _ Wolves. _ ” Hisoka was sure that confusion and panic was bleeding into his voice now. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. It wasn’t like him to lose his  _ calm _ exterior.

Illumi, seeming to have given up trying to reason with him, changed the subject. “We should get going. As I told you before, Zeno does not appreciate his guests being late.” With that last word, the man turned and started walking.

Hisoka jumped to his senses and took off after the assassin. Perhaps it would do him good to stay with one of the property’s residents. Maybe then he wouldn’t end up springing more traps or security measures.

“I’m going to get you back for letting the wolf almost kill me,” Hisoka called after him.

“That seems unlikely, since every gun in this place is currently trained on you,” he spoke over his shoulder.

“Who said I’ll be violent?”

“Considering what I’ve seen and heard of you, I wouldn’t dismiss the notion.”

“You’re one to talk, coming from a family of assassins,” Hisoka countered.

“A family that has so graciously invited you to dinner after your  _ impressive- _ ” his voice turned cold with the word- “display...” he finished.

“This wasn’t your idea?” Hisoka caught up and stopped the man by grabbing his arm, genuine confusion in his voice. He had been so sure that Illumi had invited him personally, if only to kill him. He did make it a game, after all.

“Of course it wasn’t,” Illumi stated as though it were obvious. “The maid you let live told Zeno about your escape. He was so impressed that you managed to escape that he invited you back. I assume to kill you. I don’t know why else he’d allow someone like  _ you _ back into our home.” With those last words, he pushed out of Hisoka’s grasp and continued forward towards the house, expecting Hisoka to follow.

“Hmm…” Hisoka trailed off as he went after Illumi.

  
  


…

  
  


“Ah so nice of you to finally join us,” a creaky voice rang out into the hall.

Hisoka looked to the table, locking eyes with an old man seated at the head.

“I would have come earlier, but I’m afraid your guards held me up.” Hisoka put on what he hoped was his most silky voice and charming smile. He watched as Illumi tensed up from the corner of his eye, not having seen this side of him. Judging by the slight confusion written into Illumi’s features, he had succeeded in pulling off the mannerism. He could have charisma when he wanted, that much was true, but it was just so much more fun to make people squirm.

The wooden door Illumi had escorted him through closed with an echo into the otherwise silent dining hall. Hisoka didn’t flinch, even for a second. No fear when facing the family of death.

Calling back the information Machi had spared him, Hisoka surveyed the table and each family member sitting there. The elder at the head was obviously Zeno, head of the assassin family. The letter’s author as well as Illumi’s passing remarks confirmed that for him without Machi’s service. The man sitting on his right might’ve been one of the largest humans Hisoka had ever laid eyes upon. His long blonde hair spilled down over the purple and black assassin’s garb he wore. His face was angular to the point of cruelty and his eyes were unforgiving. Hisoka knew he should fear him as any normal human would, but he still found the gaze of the older man to be more intimidating.

Sitting beside the man whom he assumed to be Silva Zoldyck, was a tall, wiry, mean-looking woman sporting a large frilly dress and a hat to match it. Even stranger, she was wearing sunglasses  _ inside. _ Not to mention it was already so dark within the manor. He nearly chuckled at the stupidity of it.  _ Kikyo Zoldyck. _

Across the table from the two adults were three other family members. The largest one sat near an empty seat (probably reserved for himself). He assumed that one to be… Milluki? Is that what Machi had called him? Yes, that’s definitely what she had told him. The only other names she had mentioned were Kalluto and Killua, though she neglected to give him any distinguishing traits to use to discern which was which. The two smallest children sat nearest to Zeno, the boy sporting the black bob sat at the end, the little white-haired boy in the center.

Illumi continued to escort him towards the table. When Hisoka reached the open seat at the foot of the table, a butler emerged from the shadows to pull out his chair. Hisoka offered him a gracious (though sly) smile.  _ No reason not to have some fun with the staff. They already hate me and I might die anyways. _

Hisoka watched as Illumi was treated with the same grace, though the butler seemed more relaxed in his presence. He offered a mischievous smile to Illumi before relaxing his face to a more calm and approachable look. His offering was met with the hint of a scowl before his face relaxed into that blank calm once again.

Hisoka opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by the glare and slight shake of head Illumi sent in his direction. He shut his mouth, instead opting to glance around the table. Six sets of eyes (Illumi refused to look at him) watched him, scrutinizing his every breath. He brushed it off, maintaining his calm and charismatic exterior. The tension was thick enough Hisoka swore he could cut it with a knife.

Thankfully the uncomfortable atmosphere was put at ease with the arrival of butlers carrying platters of delicious-smelling food and wine. It was almost as if the house itself sighed in relief at the lack of carnage.

Once the food was set out, everyone with their own plate, Zeno spoke.

“I always loved doing business over dinner,” he stated. “You see, normal people tend to let their guard down when indulging in food and various drinks-” he looked up from his plate, directly into the eyes of Hisoka- “Though people like us tend to know better, hm?”

Hisoka glanced down at his food and then back up at Zeno, offering another smile. “I do suppose so. Though I do feel there’s an added threat when considering the idea of dining with an infamous family of assassins. Any person with an ounce of intellect would see fit to question the food put in front of them by a murderer. I would expect it to be poisoned.”

Zeno gave him a calculating stare before continuing, “Poison is an interesting weapon, don’t you think? Quite powerful in proper dosage, but with an immunity, its effects are all but negated. Small doses over long periods of time builds up your strength and resistance to such things.” The man took a sip of wine to punctuate his statement. Hisoka could only admire the man’s cryptic sort of style.

“While all of that is quite interesting-” Hisoka picked up his own glass of wine- “that doesn’t give me any confirmation that you haven’t in fact tampered with my meal.” He inspected the liquid, choosing to smell it as well. No scent of almonds. That made him feel at least a bit better.  _ A family like this no doubt has access to castor beans though… _ Hisoka doubted they would attempt to dose him with lethal amounts of ricin, but he couldn’t be too sure.

“If we did, I assure you it’s in no way that it would be lethal,” Zeno hummed, seeming to be amused by the conversation at hand. “It’s impolite to treat your guests with such hostility after all.”

“Well then, I thank you for your generosity.” He smiled and took a sip of his wine.

“Now, if we may return to business, I have a proposition for you,” Zeno spoke with a tone that invited questioning. Unfortunately for him, Hisoka wasn’t one to pass up a good opening.

“Proposition you say? I expected that to come from Illumi, not you.” Hisoka was playing with fire, he knew that, but he did also promise he’d get back at Illumi. Why not do it now?

He could feel Illumi’s glare boring into his head, willing him to stop. It only made him more determined to use every possible opening he could.

“As I was saying, I have a proposition- a job if you must call it such.”

That piqued Hisoka’s interest. He turned his full attention to the old man. “A job you say?”

“That is correct. I would like to offer you a job working for us. You would kill when we give the order and collect information when we need it. You would be an assassin.”

Hisoka could feel a genuine smile breaking out on his face. A chance to kill some people higher up  _ for money _ ? A chance to get closer to Illumi and figure out how to crack his facade? Hisoka could barely stop himself from saying yes right then and there. He cast his gaze to Illumi who seemed to be doing his best to ignore Hisoka’s presence. Then the old man spoke again.

“But before you say anything, you should know some things.” The old man’s tone left no room for argument. Hisoka’s face fell back into a more passive state.

“What might those be?” Hisoka hummed, more curious than ever.

“You would have to cut ties with any family, we can’t have you creating more of a security risk than you already pose.”

Hisoka smiled a devilish grin. “Lovely to know how much harm you think I could bring. Though I don’t doubt I would make it less than five feet before getting killed if I were to speak out of turn here, yes?” His eyes searched the old man’s, looking for anything to work with. He was unsuccessful.

“As I said, the only risk you pose is in your possible companions. This is why we must know if you have any family. Any father to speak of? A mother? Perhaps even a darling waiting at home?” Zeno raised an eyebrow, obviously already aware of the answers Hisoka would give.

Hisoka’s face fell into his signature grimace crossed with smirk, sobering his momentary delight in Illumi’s failing composure. “My father ran himself into a ditch after dealing in matters he shouldn’t have.” Hisoka could barely keep the tension from his voice, taking no joy in discussing his upbringings. “No  _ darling _ to speak of yet.” Hisoka cast his gaze to Illumi, who was avoiding his eyes, and threw a not-so-subtle wink, finding some solace in teasing the man.

“You still haven’t fully answered my question,” Zeno remarked.

Hisoka looked up into the eyes of the old assassin, gaze hardening.”Mommy dearest bought herself a Chicago Overcoat about 12 years back.” He smiled sweetly, but he could feel that it didn’t reach his eyes. “No family to speak of, I'm afraid.”

“But how can we be sure when you pose a risk only with your inability to remain quiet?”

“Oh, you mustn't worry too much about my inability to be quiet, rather, you should worry about  _ Illumi’s. _ ”

Illumi’s head turned to Hisoka’s with a face of confusion. “Hisoka, what do you mea-”

“You don’t remember kitten~?” Hisoka's eyes shifted to Illumi, “it was last tuesday, and you know what? I think you might've been the loudest thing in the house at the time, besides the bed of course.”

Illumi choked on his drink, looking at Hisoka with a burning rage in his eyes. Finishing his sip of wine, Illumi caught his breath and mouthed something along the lines of  _ “what are you doing?” _ at him. Hisoka smiled and mouthed back  _ “getting even”  _ to a fuming Illumi.

“Illumi, is this true?” Zeno interrupted their whisper argument

“What do you mean grandfather?” Illumi hesitated, it was something Hisoka had never seen Illumi do before, and it fascinated him. What else did Illumi’s family bring out? Perhaps, if he was lucky and kept this up, he’d find out.

Zeno hummed, not giving a response. The woman took up where he had left off.

“Illumi! Your grandfather asked you if this was true! Please tell me you haven’t actually had any relations with this  _ clown. _ ” Right off the bat, Hisoka could tell he did not like Kikyo Zoldyck. The woman practically screeched every word.

Hisoka glanced over at Illumi again, searching for anything that could even clue them in to being related. Unfortunately, Illumi seemed to be shrinking in his seat, the family’s scrutinizing gaze now being turned to him. Hisoka found it hilarious.

“Mother, I  _ swear _ I have never-”

“Had someone so good?” Hisoka finished for him, dealing the final blow.

Kikyo actually  _ screamed _ and fell back, having fainted from (what Hisoka could only assume to be) the shock of it all. Zeno cast his indifferent gaze to her unconscious form. Silva and Milluki seemed to be the only ones who cared about her condition. Illumi looked like he would have rather been anywhere else. Hisoka was enjoying it so much.

Zeno raised his voice over the din of the chaos. “Illumi, would you please escort your  _ friend _ to the front gate?” It was less of a question and more of a statement. Hisoka would be leaving the manor then, no matter what he wanted.

Illumi stood abruptly, pushing away from the table. He grabbed Hisoka’s arm with an otherworldly strength and dragged him up as well. He continued to yank him by his limb until they were out of the dining room and alone in the hallway.

“Now Hisoka-” Illumi turned to him, a cold fury in his gaze- “care to tell me… what the  _ fuck _ that was?” His voice was a hiss, which was somehow scarier than an angered yell.

“That was  _ performance art _ , my dear Illu.”

He really should have seen the slap coming, all things considered. It still stung. Hisoka’s head snapped to the side with the force of the blow. A true laugh spilled from his throat, echoing through the hall as an eerie cackle.

“You are truly sick,” Illumi spat in a disgusted tone. With that final statement, he whirled around and stalked away.

_ Oh this is more fun than I ever could’ve imagined. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who made things awkward for everyone again? It was hisoka. (It's always hisoka).
> 
> As always, Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!


	7. Hidden Alleys and Speeding Bullets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronald McDonald and Momo go out for a stroll

On the night of the dinner, Hisoka had played with fire, and it was his fault the church burned down.

That being said, he hadn’t been too worried about being declined his precious job offer. Zeno had let him leave alive after all. Nonetheless, some anxiety remained. Until, that is, the second letter arrived on the doorstep. That time it had been accompanied with a knock, though there was a suspicious lack of postman by the time Hisoka got to the door to pick up the ornate envelope yet again.

“ _ Hisoka, please be waiting at the front gates tomorrow evening at Eight O’Clock sharp. You will be greeted with further instructions then. _ ” he had read from the paper sealed with a dragon stamp.

And so, Hisoka found himself again at the towering black iron gates that guarded entry to the Zoldyck manor. The appearance no longer seemed as intimidating as it had once been. Perhaps it was because Hisoka knew the level of chaos he could cause. Perhaps it was knowing that he brought a table of assassins to the floor only through words and well-placed smirks. Either way, Hisoka knew he had been dealt a powerful set of cards, and he would be a fool to waste them. 

This time, in hopes he wouldn’t be pursued by a rabid wolf, Hisoka decided it was best to wait outside of the gate for someone to welcome him in. He checked his wristwatch, noticing he had arrived about five minutes early. The Zoldycks seemed like a punctual bunch, he’d probably be let inside the property at eight o’clock on the dot.

He was wrong. About ten minutes (five minutes past the requested time) had passed before hisoka saw someone come up to the gate. Packing up the deck of cards he had brought to entertain himself, he turned his attention to the figure approaching him. It was Illumi. Hisoka couldn't help but smirk at the assassin, reminiscing about the  _ fun _ times they had shared over dinner.

Once Illumi had reached the iron bars that provided a barrier between the two, he produced a key from who knew where and unlocked the heavy metal gate. He motioned Hisoka inside, not speaking a word. Hisoka met Illumi’s eyes, putting a playful glint in his cat-like glare. He was met with a stony face that gave away no thoughts or intentions. Hisoka smiled at the challenge, not used to someone meeting his gaze dead-on. Illumi didn’t waver, and so Hisoka let some malice into his features. He was quite good at putting on a mask, after all.

Finally, Illumi looked away. Hisoka took it as an opportunity to lighten the mood with some chit chat.

“Ah! Illu, I-”

“Don’t call me that,” Illumi gritted out, interrupting Hisoka’s speech.

“Right,” Hisoka said, waving his hand away as though he had already forgotten about the offence. “Anyways, as I was going to ask before you interrupted me, how is your family doing? I haven’t seen them since the evening before yesterday.” Hisoka knew he wouldn’t get a response out of the other man who seemed intent on going about as if he didn’t exist.

Oddly enough, Illumi indulged him. “Mother and Father haven’t taken kindly to your disposition, if you’ll believe that,” Illumi said with a note of something foreign in his voice.

_ Did he just make a joke? _ Hisoka nearly flinched at the display of emotion other than indifference or anger.

“Grandfather, however,” Illumi continued, trailing off. “Zeno has seen something in you worth exploiting. Who knows why.” Illumi looked around into the forest as he spoke, reminding Hisoka of the dangerous wolf- no,  _ wolves _ , that lurked within its darkness. He chose then to speak, concerned with his safety.

“Wait-” Hisoka stopped in his tracks- ”Mike’s not here right?” Hisoka looked around nervously.

“No- He’s taking a nap right now.” gestured to the forest inside of the gate.

“Oh good,” Hisoka let out a sigh of relief. Though he knew that there should be no trust in between himself and Illumi Zoldyck, Hisoka couldn’t help but put faith in the truth of Illumi’s statement.

“Let's get going then,” Illumi turned to the manor and started walking towards it. He was unusually fast today. Hisoka bolted after him.

“Sooooo, I asked about your family, but not about you. How have you been, Illumi?” Hisoka finally caught up with him.

“Fine.” Illumi stopped in his tracks and turned to Hisoka, “You know we don’t  _ need _ to make conversation, right? This is strictly a business-type situation.”

“I was simply trying to build a friendly rapport,” he purred. “If only for  _ business.” _

The look Illumi gave him told Hisoka that he was about 3 seconds away from being slapped again.

Although Hisoka had made it a point to strike up conversation when they met up, he decided it would be best to stay silent until they reached their destination. They fell into a tense silence for the rest of the journey up. Hisoka spent the time looking around at trees, finally getting a chance to enjoy the scenery when he wasn’t being chased by a furry beast. He had to admit, the Zoldycks were nothing if not thorough. The trees provided cover and a pathway up off of the ground. It was a perfect environment to live and train in for any killer.

When they had finally made it to the manor Illumi opened the door for him and invited him inside with a gesture and nod. This time he was led down another room off to the side of the foyer and taken to a room he had never seen before. He doubted that he had seen all the mansion, but it was starting to get ridiculous, how incredibly gargantuan it seemed both inside and out. Hisoka was nearly sure there couldn’t be much more he hadn’t seen.  _ That hallway full of doors had to have led somewhere though… _ Who knew? Maybe Illumi would let him explore one day.

They both sat down on velvet-upholstered chairs over a wide blackwood table. A servant suddenly appeared through yet another door, carrying a silver tray adorned with two cups. The man bent down ever so slightly in order to hand off the cups to each of the men relaxing in the plush seats. Hisoka smiled up at the man who was providing them with refreshments. The servant didn’t meet his gaze. On top of that, he kept a completely blank face. If it hadn’t been for the slight sheen on his skin as well as the fact that the man’s eyes kept flicking over to Illumi, Hisoka wouldn’t have been able to notice the discomfort the servant was experiencing. 

“Where’s Zeno?” Hisoka took a small sip, jumping right to the business portion of this visit. “Going by the letter, I had assumed he would be joining us this evening.”

“Grandfather’s not going to be joining us today, as  _ I  _ was so unfortunately assigned to brief you,” Illumi responded, distaste on his tongue.

“Brief me? Am I going to be taking a job soon?” Hisoka crossed his legs and set the teacup on his knee. He leaned back, finding it easy to balance the tea on his leg after years of honing his balancing act. Lifting his gaze from the cup to Illumi, he let his face fall into a picture of impassive interest.

“Tonight actually,” Illumi looked up at a wall clock near the seats. “At around… midnight.”

Hisoka took a moment to process the information he had just been presented with. “Hm… okay then,” he decided after a few moments. “I suppose killing for money would make more sense than killing for fun. Though, killing for fun isn’t a horrible plan…” Hisoka realized he had trailed off with a smirk on his face. Turning his attention back to Illumi, he saw the man’s face had developed a questioning tilt.

“Hm. Assuming all goes well, you would only get a fraction of the payout.” Illumi tapped his finger to his chin as only a book character would. Hisoka was quick to hide his smirk at the gesture. This whole family consisted of caricatures, Illumi just as much as his parents. “Only about four thousand.”

Hisoka, who had picked up the cup to sip some tea while Illumi was talking, nearly spit out the hot liquid when he heard the amount. _ Four thousand? For a murder? Damn, I should’ve been in this assassin business from the beginning. _

“Four thousand did you say?” Hisoka tried to keep the choked rasp from his voice. “That seems fair.”

“Lovely.” Illumi clapped softly to punctuate the word, giving off an aggressively sarcastic attitude. “Now, if I may proceed with the briefing?” he raised an eyebrow in question.

Hisoka waved his hand as a sign for the man to continue. Illumi was handed a file from a butler who had suddenly appeared behind his chair. Hisoka didn’t startle at the unexpected presence. At that point he only thought it good practice to expect more odd occurrences while he was within the Zoldyck Manor’s walls. Relaxing his body back into the soft chair (in a house of assassins he had expected only harsh and uncomfortable furniture, but was pleasantly surprised), Hisoka readied himself to hear about the sorry excuse for a human being that he was supposedly assigned to kill.

“What it boils down to is this; there has been a lot of activity lately in multiple gangs and mob families in the San Francisco area. Our job is to dispose of a man named Raymond Walters-”

“Wait,” Hisoka cut Illumi off, earning him a quick glare. “Did you say  _ our _ ? I was under the impression that  _ I  _ would be taking this job tonight.”

“ _ Sadly, _ I have also been assigned to ‘assist’ you in tonight’s case.”

“You’ve been put on babysitting duty is what I hear.” Hisoka made his worst attempt at an innocent grin, if only to rile the man up more so than he already had.

“I  _ suppose _ that is a way of putting it,” Illumi bit out, his voice coated in ice.

Hisoka couldn’t resist a slight chuckle. Out of the corner of his eye, Hisoka saw Illumi tense up at the act. The man’s reactions only made Hisoka want to tease him more often. It was just so  _ fun _ to get this kind of reaction out of someone. Normally people put up a wall and got used to dealing with him within their first meeting, he wasn’t used to someone still being affected by his jests after knowing him for this long.

“Alright well you should probably get on with the details,” Hisoka prompted.

“What else do you need? I already gave you the name of the man. Though I do suppose…” Illumi trailed off, removing a thin piece of paper from the file he was holding. After examining it, he held it out to Hisoka.

Taking it from Illumi’s hand, Hisoka eyed the man who was drawn in it.  _ Remarkable detail. Someone drew this? _ The sketch, Hisoka noted, looked real enough to have been a photo. He admired the talent and examined the subject. The target called Raymond was all angles. The artist made it seem as though he was composed entirely of harsh features, a calculating look in his eye to match the cruelty of it.

“I assume he’s some big boss that got on the nerve of some other gang boss? It’s always something like this.”

“Actually, he’s the right hand of one of the upcoming gangs. All the client said was that he’s been doing too well. ‘Gaining too much power’ I believe were his exact words,” Illumi stated with disinterest.

“I retract my earlier statement. It’s always something like  _ that, _ ” Hisoka said, a slight laugh edging his voice.

“It does seem so.” Hisoka might have been seeing things, but he swore that he saw the corner of Illumi’s mouth quirk upwards, if only for a split second. “I should also mention that the client has requested proof of death. Usually this means a body part, as trinkets can be stolen. I trust that won’t be too much to handle?”

Hisoka shook his head to answer no.

“Good. Now, I suggest we finish our tea and then come up with a plan in these next four hours.”

“Sounds perfect.”

  
  


…

  
  


Illumi was not fond of the red haired man who walked beside him. He was not fond of the way he kept spouting out numbers (“scores” he had called them) as they drove past civilians on their way to their destination. He was not fond of the man’s ridiculously bright red hair that hung down to cover his cat-like gaze, always scouting for his next victim. He was not fond of the song he hummed as they walked down the barren streets, disregarding any sense of stealth and safety. He was not fond of Hisoka’s existence.

Of course, he wasn’t supposed to be making that evident. Grandfather had told him to treat the man as any client or business associate. Unfortunately, that meant “polite” was the word that was uttered the loudest when regarding his behavior. If Illumi hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought that Zeno had been  _ entertained _ by the whole ordeal that dinner had brought about. Why he was so intent on letting Hisoka ruin their orderly lives, Illumi could never hope to know.

He cast his eyes to Hisoka, who was walking beside him and still humming that god-awful tune. It was something high pitched that rose and dipped seemingly out of nowhere. Illumi attempted to tune it out as best he could, instead focusing on their surroundings.

The butler had dropped them off about three blocks away from the target’s supposed location. The location that had been provided to them was down by the waterside. The smell of salt and and fish carried themselves on the wind to the noses of all populating the area. Illumi didn’t care for the smell, but he had to admit that there was something freeing about the ocean air. Oh if only the feeling wasn’t eclipsed by Illumi’s growing paranoia.

It was a Saturday night down by the water, the weather was fair for autumn, and the conditions were perfect for a stroll or a visit to one of the several speakeasies that populated the city. Overall, it was a perfectly lovely evening that could be enjoyed by all, so where was everyone?

Illumi stood rigid as he walked, scanning the shop windows for any sign of life. Restaurant owners should have been closing up right about then, and yet there were no dimly lit cafes in sight. Illumi’s feeling of unease only grew with the strange circumstances. Hisoka, however, seemed to be enjoying the walk, as was made evident by his excess of mischievous energy. How did he not feel the ominous tension in the air?  _ For a killer by trade, he doesn’t seem to be the brightest when it comes to sensing his surroundings. _ Illumi was jerked out of his thoughts by Hisoka’s louder-than-necessary voice.

“Ah. Illu, isn’t this just the most lovely evening? Just the two of us, walking down by the water, about to go murder a gang boss!” Hisoka chuckled.

“Don’t call me that,” Illumi responded, not caring to address the other man’s statements.

“Oh you have no sense of fun.” Hisoka waved off Illumi who had fallen back in pace. “Now, I suggest we come up with a plan. Much fun as I think it would be, I don’t believe you would be in the mood to storm their little fortress up front, am I correct?”

Illumi only gave him a curt nod, forcing Hisoka to slow down and turn his head back even more to address the movement.

“Awfully quiet aren’t we, Illumi?”

Illumi, not wanting to give voice to his concerns, responded only by shooting Hisoka with a quick glare.

“Now, now- I was only teasing~”

“You’d do better to shut your mouth. Perhaps people would actually enjoy your company that way,” Illumi snipped at the man.

“You wound me,” Hisoka mocked offense at the words. Could nothing Illumi said pierce his hide? How did Hisoka always know exactly which words held power? How could Illumi not match him?

“You make it easy.” Even that reply had sounded strained to Illumi’s ears. Thankfully, Hisoka didn’t comment on his desperate attack, instead switching subjects.

“Now, about that plan?”

“The plan is I go for the kill and you cover me, simple as that,” Illumi said in a hushed tone, noticing a couple walking towards them from farther down the sidewalk. Hisoka didn’t seem to have taken notice of them, or if he did, he simply didn’t care.

“Oh but I believe you are mistaken. You see, I was under the impression this particular death was assigned to my talents~” Hisoka smiled his conniving grin that he seemed to only put on when he knew someone was powerless against him.

“Hisoka, don’t-” Illumi was cut off by Hisoka continuing, even with the civilians getting closer to their position.

“You see  _ murder _ is an art, dear Illumi. An art that  _ I _ have done my best to perfect in all my years of killing. The spray of blood, the way the light just  _ dies _ in your victim’s eyes- there’s a certain beauty to it, don’t you think?” Hisoka finished, his grin turning into a smirk of victory.

Illumi looked to the couple who had come well within earshot of the red-haired lunatic. Illumi fought to keep a look of horror and rage from his face, keeping his impassive facade up just long enough for the man and woman to scurry away from the scene, their faces filled with fear. Hisoka didn’t pursue them thankfully.

Illumi looked past Hisoka’s shoulder as the other man watched the couple run away. He spotted an alleyway opening that looked like it wasn’t harboring some creep. Half a second later, Illumi was dragging Hisoka by the sleeve of his jacket into the dark and deserted lane.

Hisoka reached out with his other arm, either attempting to gain the attention of or halt Illumi’s actions. Illumi responded by slapping his hand away and jerking his arm to throw the man off balance. One Hisoka had finished stumbling into the alley, Illumi used his momentum to spin the man and pin him to the wall, pushing on Hisoka’s lapel with his forearm.

“What were you  _ thinking _ ? Are you truly that idiotic? You could have just cost us this mission! What if they were scouts? What if they go tell the police? You could’ve doomed us,” Illumi growled at him, trying to keep his voice quiet.

“You really must learn to relax, Illumi. It’s not a challenge to track them down and kill them if they blab to the wrong people. After all, isn’t it our job to be judge, jury, and especially executioner? Civilians don’t matter. I had the situation completely under control, just like this mission,” Hisoka’s smile had fallen slightly.

Illumi was fuming, his rage barely contained. How did this man seem to ruin everything in his life within just a week? He took a shaky breath before responding, his voice somewhere between a whisper and a hiss.

“You know  _ nothing _ of the challenges I face every day within this business- no, within this  _ world _ . I do not have the luxury of killing how and when I please, and neither do you anymore. I kill and I don’t ask questions. I take prisoners when they seem useful, and believe me, if you keep up this act, you will no longer be useful to this operation. It would do you _ damn _ well to learn when you are no longer in control.” Illumi only realized his voice had grown louder, just shy of a shout, as he finished his speech.

Hisoka gave him a look that Illumi was unable to decipher. His smile was gone, but he wore no grimace or frown. He seemed thoughtful in a way, almost calculating. Illumi didn’t trust it. He lowered his other arm which he had instinctively raised while talking at Hisoka. He glanced at his hand which was sporting three pins that he was brandishing as claws. Hisoka followed his gaze, glancing at the weapons. He made no move to fight back.

With a sigh, he tugged on the man’s coat for a split second before slamming Hisoka against the wall once more for good measure. Only then did he remove his grip on the killer.

“You are truly the worst human being I’ve ever met.”

“Perhaps that is true…” Hisoka trailed off as Illumi so frequently did. He kept waiting for him to finish the statement, but the man never completed his thought. His face remained impassive and calculating, the mischievous glint in his eyes yet to return.

“How is it no one has shot you in the face yet?” Illumi asked, his voice strained as he tried to move on from his sudden outburst.

“Oh that’s quite simple! You see, I usually kill them before they pull a gun.” Hisoka’s grin returned with the statement, alleviating some of the tension that had hung between them just then.

Though they came in succession and could’ve been mistaken for one, there were two loud cracks. The first was a pistol firing. The second was the bullet’s impact when it hit the brick and ricocheted into a trash can behind the two assassins that stood in the alleyway.

Illumi watched as a bit of fractured brick flew away and hit Hisoka. Of course, the man barely noticed it as his hunter instincts kicked in to find the source of the attack. Illumi, on the other hand, dove back against the opposite wall, hoping to have hidden out of the shooter’s line of sight. Another shot rang out as he put his back to the wall, the bullet striking in near the same place Hisoka had been standing not a moment ago.

Hisoka, throwing any regard for his safety out the window, moved out into the open, seemingly in hopes to catch a reference of the direction in which the shots came. Illumi watched his movements, scanning each place Hisoka’s gaze landed upon. The attacker did not make himself known.

Someone shouted something in the distance, but the words died on the wind that blew in from the sea.

Silence fell. Illumi counted all the while, waiting for some clue as to the assailant’s position. None came to him until about five seconds later, when both he and Hisoka were surrounded by about six men with weapons and varying degrees of murderous intent written into their features.

_ I knew he would get us into trouble somehow. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!


	8. The Art of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As written by Illumee: G A Y

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It's Dragon and Illumee- we're quite sorry to say, but updates on this fic are going to start slowing down quite a bit. We've decided to focus on our studies for a while, but we'll still update as often as we can! Thank you for being such wonderful readers. Again, this fic is NOT abandoned, updates are just going to be more spaced out.
> 
> Also, French is spoken in this chapter, but seeing as I took six years of it and then promptly forgot it all, we're just writing it in italics to indicate the conversation is in the language.

Illumi slowly raised his arms, palms open to show his lack of intent to kill. Pushing off from the wall he was pressed against with his left foot, he let his gaze roam over the faces of his and Hisoka’s attackers. He didn’t dare make eye contact with his partner, lest the thugs think they were up to something and decide to send them to an early grave. Not while Illumi was still formulating a plan of attack. He couldn’t jeopardize their situation any more otherwise they’d surely fail to hit their mark.

The six men who surrounded them were all of different builds and equipped with different weapons. In some sense, he supposed it was clever, sending different categories of fighters to kill them. If he was estimating their skill at all correctly, he would have to use different techniques to either disarm or kill them. As Illumi walked out to the center of the circle to where Hisoka was standing, he finally risked flicking his gaze to hopefully meet Hisoka’s. Unfortunately, the other assassin wasn’t looking at him, instead preoccupied with sizing up all the men taking up his field of vision.

Casting his eyes to the three men on Illumi’s side of the alley, he decided to do the same and formulate a quick plan that hopefully wouldn’t end in their deaths.  _ Let’s see, _ Illumi thought to himself. He looked to the first man. Short and stocky, seemed like a boxer type, carried what looked to be a lead pipe.  _ Keep him at a distance. _ He looked to the second man. Tall, still pretty muscular.  _ He’s slow and not much of a close range fighter. _ He looked to the second man’s hand.  _ Right, he has a gun. _ Finally he looked to the third man.  _ Knives. _ His frame wasn’t anything notable, but he did seem like he’d be the fastest, if only based on the glint in his eyes that told Illumi the man knew something he didn’t.

_ I can’t see the men behind me. Hisoka is facing them. I could turn my head to try and see the other opponents, but one of the men on this side might try to attack in that opening. I don’t know if Hisoka can handle all these men- I’ve only ever seen him fight one-on-one.  _ Illumi’s thoughts raced as he considered the situation they found themselves in.

He was roused from his thoughts by a crinkling sound coming from somewhere behind him. Illumi watched as the men turned their gazes to the man over his shoulder. Deciding the men were preoccupied with investigating the noise, Illumi risked a glance over his own shoulder. He was met with a bored-looking Hisoka, popping a piece of what looked to be bubblegum into his mouth. He chewed it for a good ten seconds before blowing a bubble, all the while, the henchmen staring and Illumi watching in horror at his display of casual indifference.

“ _ Do you speak french my dear Illumi?” _ Hisoka spoke with a perfect accent and an eloquence unmatched by what he’d previously seen of the man. Illumi considered their shared predicament before responding.

“ _ The question, Hisoka, is whether or not these men speak it,” _ Illumi answered, albeit in an inferior accent, perhaps because he was caught by surprise.

“ _ Ah, but that isn’t the question, is it?” _ Hisoka asked, his voice hinting at a smile.

Illumi didn’t respond to that, meeting the statement with a silent question. Hisoka took the hint and continued on.

“ _ Isn’t it interesting that not one of these men have pulled the trigger or attempted to kill you while you’re unarmed?” _

“ _ Unarmed isn’t the right word-” _

“ _ Think about the question, Illumi,” _ Hisoka interrupted.

Illumi stayed silent as he surveyed the enemies yet again. Then, he came to a realization.

“ _ They aren’t trying to kill us,” _ Illumi stated as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. How had he not seen it before?

“ _ There you go,” _ Hisoka praised in a near-mocking tone. “ _ And what advantage does that give us?” _

“ _ Now that’s an easy one. You see, we came here with the intent to kill.” _

“ _ To think I had doubted your observational skills,” _ Hisoka teased. Illumi could practically picture the wolfish grin that must’ve been spreading on his face, knowing he would get the chance to kill.

Illumi hummed a single note in order to address the statement.

“Are you two lovebirds done yet?” a man on Hisoka’s side spat out, seemingly infuriated by their conversation.

Hisoka, not missing a beat, switched back to English easily. “You know, it really is quite rude to interrupt a conversation you aren’t involved in,” he purred in his usual voice.

“Do I look like I care? If I remember correctly, you aren’t the one holding a gun, are ya now?” The man seemed prone to spitting, if only based on what Illumi could hear as he faced down the three men on his side.

Hisoka exhaled deeply before talking again, though this time not to the man threatening him. “Illumi, it really would be most helpful if you could take care of these six  _ heathens _ , Bruno over here especially.”

“Hisoka, what are you thinking?” Illumi didn’t care that the men could understand what they were saying, they would be dead soon enough.

“I’m thinking you cover me and I go for the head.” Hisoka punctuated the statement with another pop of his bubblegum.

“Would you shut the hell up? And spit yer damn gum out!” the same goon yelled.

Hisoka loudly chewed a couple more times before speaking again. “Illumi, I’ll even give you a headstart on one of them, how does that sound?”

Illumi looked over his shoulder once again at the man behind him, now sporting a sickening grin. He didn’t respond, slightly fearful of what Hisoka was hinting at. What did he mean by it?

Of course, he found out a moment later when out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a pink mass shooting through the air and hitting the underling’s eye. The man swore loudly, aiming his pistol up as he stumbled black blindly. Hisoka, not one for wasting an opportunity it seemed, rushed forward and disarmed the man before delivering a powerful kick that sent him to the ground.

Illumi, taking his chance, also rushed forward, knocking the gun from the tall muscular man and taking a bump step to kick the man armed with knives. He risked a glance over his shoulder, only to see Hisoka booking it towards the alley’s exit.

_ I can’t believe I’m trusting him to finish the job _ , he thought before a sharp pain took hold of his back. He hissed in agony, cutting off a further cry, as he attempted to arch his back and fix his stance to prevent himself from falling over. His attempt failed as the man behind him swung the lead pipe again, this time hitting the back of his legs, causing Illumi to fall to one knee. Grunting with exertion, Illumi used his other leg to kick out and sweep the legs of the man behind him, as the one with the knives had recovered from his previous attack and circled around to his back. The man fell to the pavement with a slam.  _ Guess he wasn’t as fast as I thought. _

He tucked his outstretched leg back under him, springing to his feet after years of practiced timing. Illumi nearly fell backwards, arching his back just in time to avoid another swing of the lead pipe. Forming an idea, he let his momentum carry his body further, landing on his hands. As he pushed off the ground, he hooked his foot under the lead pipe and kicked it out of the man’s hands as he had raised it up to block Illumi’s attack.

Illumi backed up as he stood, now faced with five  _ very _ angry (though three were disarmed) men.  _ Damn you, Hisoka. _

...

Hisoka rounded the corner, running as fast as he could just in case any stray bullets found their way in his direction. Immediately he heard the sounds of a body hitting the ground and grunts of pain coming from inside the alleyway as he stood to make sure Illumi hadn’t gotten killed.  _ Sorry Illu, but I’m sure you can handle six men on your own. Wouldn’t be much of an assassin if you couldn’t. _

He looked down the street down which they had been previously walking. Hisoka knew they were in the right area. How on earth he had failed to notice the fact that they had arrived at the warehouse escaped him. Perhaps he should have been more observant rather than deciding to toy with Illumi. It didn’t matter now. They had made their presence known, and it seemed that their job had become immensely harder because of it.

Breathing out, he looked to the large, rusted over sliding doors of the warehouse. Beside them was a normal entry door.  _ No sense in going through the window when they already know I’m here, right? _ He smiled at the thought, meant only for himself.

How many guards could be waiting in there for him? Evidently they had known that an assassin would be sent, so that Raymond fellow would have to have men posted everywhere, right? It would be the only logical precaution. But how many men did he think it would take to bring down a professional assassin? And a  _ Zoldyck _ no less. Hisoka didn’t know much about the family past what Machi had told him, but what he gathered was that they were a pretty infamous family in the criminal underworld.

He studied the front door. It looked just a bit less rusty than the giant sliding ones. Even if there weren’t any guards immediately inside, odds were that the groan of metal would be enough to alert the entire building to his whereabouts. But again, it came back to how many men he would be forced to dispose of before getting to the main target. That wasn’t even concerning the problem of how the target himself may react to the situation. Was he the kind of man who would run, leaving his goons behind to either finish the job or die? Or would he go down with his ship? Too many variables.

_ I guess there’s no harm going in through the front door then. _ Worst case scenario, they didn’t finish the job and would come back later to off the guy.

Hisoka pulled a new deck of playing cards from the inside of his jacket. Opening the package, he plucked three from the box and dropped them in his left pocket, then repeated the process for the right pocket. He grabbed three more and placed them in between the knuckles on his left hand before returning the box to the inside of his jacket. He patted his lapel for good measure, knowing he had equipped himself with several throwing knives in case the job required it. He never found the appeal of guns- too much kickback and you always had to be too worried about reloading. The perfect weapons were everyday items you could find in any house, like playing cards!

Shaking his head to clear himself of the thought, Hisoka stepped up to the door. With a quick flick of his wrist, he twisted the doorknob and dodged to the side in the instance that someone was waiting on the other side. Much to his surprise, however, there was no one to greet him.  _ How strange. _

Carefully, he strolled through the doorway and into the building.

All the normal lights were on, yet the hallways were deserted. It all added up to an eerie sense of foreboding. Out of all the outcomes Hisoka had expected, a lack of  _ anyone _ had not been on the list. Not for the first time in three weeks, Hisoka found himself yet again, roaming empty hallways, his shoes clicking on the concrete floors. He mentally cringed at the sound he was causing. Even within the Zoldyck manor, he had found some confidence in knowing his captor wasn’t aware of his escape. Now, however, he was wary of the circumstances he found himself in. If this didn’t scream “trap,” he didn’t know what did.

Nonetheless, he swore to keep his composure. He had stared death in the face many times before and walked away unscathed, and this time would be no different. It seemed he had been born under a lucky star, or a curse that seemed intent on leading him to deadly situations and getting him out. One day he may not be so lucky, that he had come to terms with. Until then, he would spend his life chasing that one final battle. However, he would not let that battle be today.

Ever since he met Illumi, it seemed that goal had been put on hold, exchanged for his current objective of unleashing the killing machine that seemed to want to claw its way out of Illumi’s skin. He wouldn’t die until he saw the monster behind his eyes. Maybe his own death would even be brought about by such.

He chuckled to himself, too preoccupied with the thought to realize he had finally reached the door at the end of the hallway. Looking up, Hisoka let himself frown just the slightest bit. Hisoka never frowned around people (an unfortunate side effect of his upbringing); his facial expressions were composed of looks of indifference and smiles and smirks that meant a vast majority of things depending on what he felt. He once frowned around Machi. She then proceeded to tell him it was the scariest thing she’d ever seen because she had never seen that look on him before. A slight frown of indifference was something she’d seen, but nothing that ever indicated his displeasure. Not like this, at least. Now however, he could say he was thoroughly put out.

He pushed open the door that already stood slightly ajar, met with a room that looked like a proper warehouse, complete with the vast and empty hall with a few shipping containers. Right in the center stood the man he had been looking for.

Putting on an easy smile, Hisoka spoke.

“Raymond Walters I presume?” he nearly purred. No reason not to be charismatic even when faced with the man you were sent there to kill.

He took a moment to examine the target’s face. The drawing didn’t do his harshness justice. His face looked thin to the point of being gaunt, but gaunt wasn’t quite the right word. It seemed intentional. His eyes were sharp and calculating. Hisoka knew the man couldn’t get a read on him, no one ever could, but he still couldn’t help but feel like an open book. His frame was wide and yet skinny, like someone had built a broad skeleton but put the skin on a little too tightly. Hisoka didn’t like it.

When the target didn’t speak back, Hisoka was forced to continue on.

“Nice place you have here. I’m not one for warehouses, but this does seem to be quite the place.” Hisoka finished his sentence with a slight grin, growing the teeniest bit frustrated at the man’s lack of cooperation.

Again the man refused to answer him.

“Listen Raymond, as you probably know, I’ve been sent here to kill you. I have nothing against it really, but I do prefer some pushback when I do this. You’re in a bit of a tight spot right now, I don’t think you can do much except for abide by my wishes.” Hisoka shrugged at the comment.

“You’re wrong,” a gravelly voice echoed throughout the empty warehouse.

Hisoka surprised, looked to the man’s face, and was glad to finally see some form of emotion other than a calculating indifference.

“Oh? How is that so?” Hisoka could feel his face light up, his mind now racing through all the scenarios his enemy could have come up with.

“You’re the one behind the eight ball here,  _ Zoldyck, _ ” Raymond spat at him.

Hisoka’s face fell for a split second, processing the situation and how to next respond. A fraction of a second later, his face was back to wearing that signature smirk.

“I see. So you hired the family to kill yourself, am I correct?” Hisoka questioned.

Raymond Walters refused to answer, but Hisoka could’ve sworn he saw his eye twitch ever so slightly.

“That means you wanted a Zoldyck here. That means you wanted to come face to face with the family of death,” Hisoka continued. “That means you were setting a trap, but for what I wonder? What could you possibly get out of trapping, dare I say  _ killing, _ a Zoldyck?”

The man’s face scrunched up in distaste.

“Your family has seen the death of my good men! Is it wrong to want revenge for that?” Raymond’s voice broke the slightest bit. Now Hisoka had an idea.

“Ah so they killed someone you cared about, someone you loved. It makes sense then. Revenge does consume those looking out for the people they love. Unfortunately for you, your sob story isn’t tugging on my heartstrings quite enough. I’m afraid I’d rather get paid.”

“You’ll be the one to die tonight, Zoldyck scum,” the man all but shouted in rage.

His eyes flicked upwards to his right, looking somewhere past Hisoka.

_ Shit. _

Realizing exactly what he had walked into, Hisoka ducked and rolled forwards just in time for a loud gunshot to pierce the tense quiet of the warehouse.

_ How unlucky. That’s the second time tonight this has happened. _

Hisoka sprang to his feet, quickly pulling three throwing knives from his lapel pocket and sending them in the general direction of the sniper up on the catwalk. Judging by the cry of pain, he guessed that at least one of the blades had found their mark.

Sure enough, a man fell from the walkway above, landing with a crunch on the concrete floor. Hisoka eyed the broken body lying on the floor, the gun he had previously held now clattering across the floor away from him. He could hear a few shuddering breaths coming from the man and for a moment, Hisoka considered ending his misery. He decided against it, figuring the man wasn’t worth the effort. True he had tried to kill Hisoka, but he didn’t put up much of a fight. Shrugging, he turned away from the sharpshooter and back to the problem at hand.

“You know Mr. Walters, it really is quite rude to try and kill your guests who so  _ graciously _ traveled all this way for your assassination,” Hisoka pouted at him. “Now, I’m getting rather bored and would like this evening to be over so I don’t see any reason to prolong your life.”

“You Zoldyck freak! You’ll pay for this! My men will get you for sure!” Raymond shouted at him.

Hisoka just rolled his eyes and plucked a playing card from his pocket. Sending it flying through the air, the card embedded itself into the man’s throat. A second later, the blood started dribbling from the wound and Raymond started coughing up the red fluid. After a few more seconds of flailing around, coughing, and losing more blood, he collapsed on the floor.

Strolling over to him calmly, Hisoka made sure to avoid stepping in the small pools of blood that had formed and were forming around the body. He glanced at his face and recognized that there was still a spark of life in his eyes.

Smiling to himself, he spoke. “You poor thing. I feel sorry for you, genuinely, but you know I'm not a Zoldyck right? Well, I mean- most people can tell by the hair," Hisoka stated with the flick of his hair. "Well anyways, your revenge was wasted on me." He looked down to the man's face, realizing the light had already gone out. "Oh how unfortunate, you're already dead."

Standing back up to his full height, Hisoka looked around the warehouse to make sure he was truly alone. With all that had happened he wouldn’t be surprised if there was another sniper somewhere up on the platforms.

Something slightly shiny caught the corner of his eye just then. Turning his head, Hisoka’s gaze landed upon an axe resting on a shipping crate. He looked down at the body then, remembering what Illumi had told him about wanting proof of death. Sure, the guy had technically paid them for his own death, but instructions were instructions, were they not?

He walked over to the shipping container and picked up the axe. Making sure he had a firm grip on the handle, he walked back over to the body. Hisoka examined the man on the floor before deciding on how to proceed.

_ Proof of termination. _ And with that last thought, he brought the axe down.

…

Illumi twisted the pipe in the man’s stomach, causing his body to jerk and shudder. He stood with a grunt of displeasure from his aching body, scrunching his face and wiping the blood from his eye (his opponent’s, not his) with the heel of his hand as it was the only thing that wasn’t grimy from his fight. He dusted off as much of the dirt as he could from his assassin garb, turning to survey the carnage he had left behind. He had done his part, he could only hope that Hisoka had some measure of success on his end, otherwise Illumi would be the one to pay for it.

“Quite a scene you’re leaving behind, Illumi. I thought you had wanted to be discreet,” Hisoka’s voice sounded from the entrance to the alley.

Turning to face him, Illumi spoke. “Discretion may be thrown out the window when the situation calls for it, I’m afraid,” Illumi responded.

Illumi took a moment to fully examine the redhead before him. He looked to be in near-perfect shape, aside from the spray of blood which he obviously hadn’t avoided in time. He was also carrying an unfamiliar suit jacket that, if Illumi’s eyes weren’t playing tricks on him in the dim lighting, was stained and possibly dripping. Deciding to inquire as to what it was for, he spoke.

“What’s with the jacket?” Illumi questioned.

Hisoka grinned then, standing up and unwrapping whatever he had wrapped up inside the jacket. With his left hand, he held the coat at a distance from his body, probably trying to avoid more bloodstains than he already had. With his right hand, he held a severed human head. Specifically, he held the severed head of one Raymond Walters, the man they had been sent to kill.

Illumi must’ve been giving him a look, because Hisoka reacted with a soft laugh before looking him directly in the eye and smiling innocently.

“Proof of termination.”

_ This man is going to be the death of me. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always friends, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	9. Humans are Fickle Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly just banter.
> 
> Or, as my coauthor pointed out:
> 
> They each only have a couple braincells each, and they put all of them into attempted eloquent speech.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter after a bit of a longer break- the next one is supposed to be much longer, so you got that to look forward to!

Hisoka slid through the front door of the manor, twirling with one hand in the air as he did so, his jacket fanning out behind him, severed head still clutched to his abdomen.

  


“What a wonderful evening that was!” he exclaimed as though Illumi had taken him to some spectacle for the ages instead of some gang-related murder mission. He turned his devilish grin upon Illumi, who could feel himself attempting not to react to the insane mask Hisoka wore. “I assume, of course, that I am an  _ official _ assassin now?”

  


Illumi had seen some other side of the man tonight. It was something darker, crueler, sadistic. When Illumi killed, he killed for duty and efficacy, slaughtering his victims as one would place a needle on a phonograph; with precise and practiced motions. He had assumed Hisoka was the same. Attempting to track down a certified serial killer in his downtime had given him some insight when it came to means of killing. With Hisoka, he seemed set on slicing the throat with playing cards. In Illumi’s opinion, it was an odd choice of weaponry, though he was one to talk as he wielded  _ pins _ against enemies. But looking back to the various victims the red-headed man had amassed over the years with his new knowledge of Hisoka, he was able to deduce that the man before him was much more powerful than he thought. He was powerful and he had a mind of his own. That combination alone made him terrifying, though Illumi would never admit it to anyone.

  


Thinking on that, Illumi realized that it may have been a stroke of luck how he defeated the man on that night all but a couple weeks prior. Then again, Illumi himself had a lifetime of knowledge and practice in regards to the art of death. How could Hisoka compare to that?

  


As he gazed upon the potentially psychotic mass-murderer before him, Illumi decided that Hisoka may very well end up the death of him. The question was, what could he do to stay on top and out of the line of fire?

  


He decided that indulging him may be a good start.

  


“I wouldn’t go so far as to say  _ official _ , though your work this evening was acceptable.” Ok, maybe he wouldn’t go so far as to  _ indulge  _ him, but playing along every now and then would be an acceptable first step in Illumi’s mind. The man seemed to change his mood on a whim, going from playful to murderous in the span of an instant. Illumi hoped that he would never be on the ill-receiving end of Hisoka’s death glare.

  


“Oh but what  _ ever _ do you mean, my dear Illu? Was my performance not to your liking?” He approached him with an obviously fake pout and all but  _ draped  _ himself over Illumi’s smaller-yet-still-impressive frame. “Don’t you think my admirable act of service should be…  _ rewarded~? _ ”

  


Illumi, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable, rolled his eyes and stepped away from the larger man who was leaning on him. However, this did not have the desired effect, as instead of the red-head falling, Hisoka instead latched onto his wrist, spun him, and pulled him to his chest.

  


Though they were nearly the same height, Hisoka was perhaps two inches taller. Although, the slight heel on his shoe gave him another inch at least. Illumi didn’t like being looked down upon, and he especially didn’t enjoy it when the serial killer in front of him was the one doing it. The fact that there was a still-bleeding severed head digging into his gut didn’t help the matter. Looking up, he glimpsed a playful smirk in the other man’s eye, something even more sinister probably hiding beneath the flirtatious facade. In return, Illumi simply glared up at the man. Hisoka’s grip on his wrist was strong and he was not likely to be released without shutting him down in some way, shape, or form. And so, deciding to get the upper hand in this battle of wills, he strengthened his glare and spoke first.

  


“ _ I _ think that I would like to take stock of my weapons and report back to my grandfather on the mission’s events,” Illumi said calmly, speaking as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

  


“I suppose you would like to be alleviated of those blood-stained and grimy clothes as well?” Hisoka quirked an eyebrow, his face now seeming dead serious and sincere, his grip on Illumi’s wrist slackened. Illumi thought about the target’s blood seeping into his already-ruined assassin garb.

  


“Yes, I do think I’m going to burn these once I’ve bathed-” Illumi’s statement was cut off by a growing grin on Hisoka’s face. Illumi’s face fell the slightest bit as he realized he had fallen into the verbal trap. Before Hisoka could respond, an obvious proposition playing on his lips, Illumi spoke.

  


“Whatever you are about to say, I  _ guarantee  _ it is not worth the pain it will cause you to blurt it out.” Illumi ripped his wrist from Hisoka’s hand, the shit-eating grin still adorning his pale face. “Now come on, Grandfather will not be pleased at our late arrival.”

  


“Oh but  _ Illumi _ -”

  


“Don’t,” Illumi sharply warned, cutting him off.

  


Hisoka simply stood back, his free hand in the air as if showing surrender, his seemingly signature smirk once again plastered on his face. He gestured to the way to his Grandfather’s office as though a gentleman might direct a lady finding her way. Illumi rolled his eyes and stalked past the man, still smiling, not moving.

  


  


…

  


  


“So what you’re saying is that the target is the one who hired us? To kill him?” Hisoka wanted to laugh at the confusion on Illumi’s face and in his voice. The man didn’t usually seem to show this much emotion, so it felt like a treat seeing him so unlike the blank slate he always attempted to be. “That doesn’t seem to be conducive to livelihood.”

  


“Oh but, not only that, he hired you because  _ he  _ wanted to kill  _ you _ .” Hisoka could barely keep the laughter out of his voice. “How pathetic is that? The poor man wanted to take his sweet revenge on your family but only ended up dooming his organization.”

  


“Yes, well I do suppose we may have just made an enemy of his boss, and it would do you well to remember that,” Illumi calmly yet forcefully asserted, seeming to almost dismiss Hisoka’s playfulness. Hisoka could feel his face fall a bit, quickly regaining composure with a smug smirk.

  


“Although it is pretty pathetic,” Illumi quietly said, a hint of a smile in his voice. “Who would ever think it clever to get revenge on a family of assassins? It’s nearly comical.”

  


Hisoka definitely thought it was. He nearly pointed out Illumi’s rhyme, though he decided not to comment on it as Illumi seemed to be in a very odd mood that evening.

  


“I do wonder how this  _ incident _ will affect our payout though,” Illumi pondered. “The job went south but we still received half of what we were promised ahead of time.”

  


“What does that mean for me?” Hisoka asked, realizing it may have been a somewhat rude comment, but then deciding he didn’t care. “I really don’t care as much about the money as I do the game, but it would be nice to actually mend a few suits professionally. Lord knows my seamstress is fed up with me as it is.”

  


Illumi raised a perfect eyebrow at that. “I understand.”

  


Hisoka chuckled, turning to respond, but Illumi continued talking.

  


“You will be paid in full for your results, I assure you. As soon as we speak to Grandfather about these circumstances, I have little doubt you will be welcomed as a colleague in our business.”

  


“Right. And what exactly does that mean?” Hisoka questioned, now realizing he didn’t actually know what came with the job he had somehow been offered and granted before he had time to examine the details.

  


“How do you mean?”

  


“Well you say I will be working for and with your family, but I don’t exactly know what that means. I can assume that tonight was not an ordinary job, all things considered, but exactly how many jobs will I have to take? I do have other things to occupy my time, you know.”

  


Illumi turned to him, a questioning look on his face. “You do?”

  


Hisoka stopped dead in his tracks, stifling a true laugh. “You mean to tell me that you do nothing all day but train stick around your house, going on a job whenever you get them?”

  


“Well yes-”

  


“Oh my dear Illumi, we must find you some proper entertainment. The thought of you sitting around in this dark mansion all day and night is breaking my heart.”

  


“I don’t  _ sit _ around all day, Hisoka,” Illumi clipped. “Unlike you, I actually take my job seriously. I don’t see you training to hone your skills, do I?”

  


Hisoka smiled calmly. “Every fight is training for me. So far, no one has beat me when it counted, so I would say I’m well-off.”

  


“I beat you,” Illumi quietly asserted.

  


“Ah, but you didn’t kill me. Your mistake, I suppose.”

  


“It would seem so,” Illumi said, pressing his mouth into a thin line. “Though it’s a mistake I don’t think I will replicate if given the chance.”

  


“Ah, ah, ah! Now that I have been welcomed into your humble business, I don’t believe you will get the chance,” Hisoka teased.

  


“It astounds me how quickly you are able to go from oddly polite to an absolute menace.”

  


“Oh please, you love it.”

  


“I have only known you for a few weeks, I don’t believe I’m in the position to have such opinions,” Illumi stated.

  


“Perhaps not, though I do tend to grow on people,” Hisoka said with a grin. “I wouldn’t blame you for liking me. It is refreshing to find someone so similar to yourself, isn’t it?”

  


Illumi grimaced at Hisoka’s comment, or whatever Illumi’s version of a grimace seemed to be. “We are nothing alike, and you should really stop saying so.”

  


“My mistake,” Hisoka conceded, not meaning it at all. He was sure Illumi knew it, but then again, some things were better left unsaid. They were cut from the same cloth after all. Sure they might have taken different shapes, formed by their different pasts and experiences, but when it came down to it, they were nearly the same. After all, not many could perfect death in such ways they had.

  


Hisoka thought back to that alleyway by the warehouse, the dead bodies strewn about in Illumi’s wake. He was sorry that he hadn’t been there to witness the carnage the smaller man had caused. Based on his previous fights with Illumi, Hisoka got the sense that he was someone who dealt death as one might deal cards; quickly and neatly. Hisoka wondered at his precise actions, every step he took seeming to have been calculated before it was executed. Again, Hisoka was brought back to the question that had been plaguing his mind ever since that night on the rooftops: what would happen if he took away his inhibitions? Something truly dangerous would be unleashed, Hisoka had to guess, though what, he couldn’t be sure. Perhaps that was the battle he was seeking, the ultimate fight that could test his strength. But how could he bring it about?

  


_ I keep pushing at him, willing him to break. Perhaps I should take another route? _ Hisoka thought to himself. Illumi didn’t seem like the kind to snap under pressure all of a sudden. As he had concluded, he was meticulous and thoughtful.  _ So I must make him fall, ever so slowly but surely. _

  


“We’re here,” Illumi stated, gesturing at a door and breaking Hisoka out of his train of silent thought. “Grandfather should be inside. You should give him the report and then we may see what becomes of you.”

  


“Of course,” Hisoka responded, putting on what he hoped was his most agreeable voice.

  


He braced himself to step through the doorway but stopped short remembering something.

  


“Right. Before I go, what should I do with this?” Hisoka asked, holding up the jacket containing the severed head.

  


Illumi gave the package a look of extreme distaste. Hisoka found it hilarious considering how this man dealt with death on a regular basis.

  


“The job called for proof of death I’m afraid. I think you may have to present it to Zeno.”

  


“How lovely,” he responded to Illumi’s instructions. “I will see you on the other side then,  _ Illu. _ ”

  


He turned back to the wooden door in front of him. Time would be the key. Hisoka could wait, he had always been a patient man. He would work with Illumi, ever so slightly pushing him to the day that may mean the downfall of the both of them.  _ I will see you on that day, my dear Illu. _

  


And with that last thought, he pushed through the door, into the library. Who knew what fate awaited him now?

  


  


…

  


  


Machi nearly jumped when the door to her shop opened with a bang, rendering the little bell above the door all but useless in the spectacle that was presented before her as a brightly red haired man waltzed through the opening to her workplace with a greeting, almost as though it were the only thing announcing his presence. Expecting a bloodied mess, she scanned his person, finding a suit that was crusted with blood near the abdomen, and a smile that didn’t match the disheveled state in front of her.

  


“I assume you weren’t stabbed. You seem to be in too good of spirits to be bleeding out to death,” Machi finally declared after surveying the damage.

  


“Not only was I not stabbed, I was  _ paid _ for stabbing someone else!” Hisoka announced enthusiastically in his voice, somehow managing to sound excited and perfectly tame at the same time. Machi hated how soft and sultry his voice was sometimes. The man seemed like he lived to flirt and make Machi’s life hell.

  


“That so?” Machi asked in an incredulous manner. “I’ll believe it when I see you paying me back for all the times you’ve dashed without proper reimbursement for my services,” she tutted.

  


Hisoka chuckled. “Your accent becomes much more pronounced when you use bigger words, you know that?”

  


“And yours comes through when ya talk fast,” she rebuked.

  


“Mmmm, perhaps. No one ever really guesses ‘French’ when they first see me though, do they? It’s always American or something similar,” Hisoka rambled and trailed off as was usual when exploring a new thought.

  


He shrugged and brought himself back to the conversation. “Ah, well I guess my normal talking pace is suitable enough,” he all but drawled. “Besides, I’ve actually come to discuss payment.”

  


Machi raised an eyebrow. “If you’re here to promise me more cash and expect me to repair you, then ya got another thing coming.”

  


“Oh on the contrary, Machi! I am here to pay my dues in full.” His smirk grew into a grin as he watched her face, which was probably turning into some look of disbelief against her will.

  


“Excuse me if I find that hard to believe-”

  


Machi was interrupted by Hisoka nearly slamming a stack of cash on the register counter.

  


“Your money,  _ dear Machi. _ ”

  


She examined the bills, realizing there was more there than she had required of him. Not one to pass up on an opportunity, she snatched up the money and began counting it. She stopped about halfway through, making eye contact with the taller man who was smirking as though he knew a secret she did not, perhaps waiting for a show of thankfulness. He had always been an egotistical bastard.

  


Putting on a smile she knew didn’t quite reach her eyes, she held out her hand, money carefully folded in the other.

  


“It’s a pleasure to be back in business with you, Hisoka.”

  


She could get used to this extra pay. It wasn’t like running with Chrollo provided a steady income. Her shop had always been number one, but she could do with some extra spending cash.

  


_ This should be interesting. It does make me wonder how Hisoka is going to manage working with the family of death, though. Death’s gotta come for him someday. _

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will most likely occur every other Friday (or around that time).
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!


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